Normal is a Cuss Word
by Cr1mson5
Summary: So, what happens around Titans Tower when there's not a huge case to work on? Chaos, of course!
1. Dating Advice

**No ownership is on my part.**

**NOTE: The Teen Titans depicted here are the same team from the issues that are directly pre-September reboot. In other words, you'll be seeing Red Robin, Superboy, Wonder Girl, Kid Flash, Solstice, Beast Boy, Raven, and Ravager. Enjoy! :D**

**Rating: T for my standard stuff**

Tim was happy to be back on the Teen Titans, despite whatever appearances he may have given off to the others. It was cool to see his best friends again, he was catching up with Gar and Raven, and that new girl—Solstice or Kiran or whatever she wanted to be called—seemed pretty nice. Of course, Rose was mad at him for reasons unknown to man, but she was also mad at the world for reasons unknown to man. Tim was never so grateful to be male. He didn't think he could cope with being able to understand _her_ mind…

Saturday was quickly becoming his favorite day of the week. It meant sleeping in until six in the morning, waking up in the tower. It meant total freedom from creepy Batmen hanging over his shoulder all the time. And, most of all, it meant forty-eight blessed hours of being able to feel like the most normal one in the room. He looked forward to that respite every day of every week that he was in Gotham.

It was a slow day at the tower, and Kiran had dragged the other Titans outside, insisting that they enjoy the beautiful weather. The girls had gone off together to play a game of volleyball a safe distance from the boys, not wanting a repeat of Bloody Nose Saturday from the previous June, the guys were engaging in a riveting game of basketball, and Tim had somehow been coaxed down out of a tree and away from a really good book to play with them. So far, the score was: Tim and Bart—20, Conner and Gar—19. Tim was in the midst of making another perfect shot when he realized that Gar and Bart were both watching Conner, who was staring across the island. Tim followed his best friend's gaze to the shimmery golden top of a certain newly-initiated Titan and shook his head.

"Conner," he called. "Conner…Conner…_Conner_!"

When the forcefulness of his tone failed to gain the Teen of Steel's attention, he settled for chucking the ball at his head as hard as he could. The racing projectile collided with Conner's skull going forty-five miles an hour and actually managed to move it. Conner whirled around, spitting out in surprise, "What in the—Tim, what the hell was that?"

"It's called a basketball," Tim replied sarcastically. "As in, we still have a game going on."

Conner gave his head a little shake. "Sorry, man, I just…Cassie and I broke up a while ago—"

"Here it comes," Bart muttered.

"And I've been feeling kind of lonely—"

Gar stuck his tongue out, pointed into his mouth, and feigned gagging.

"And Kiran's really kind of hot, so—"

"You were trying to think of the perfect pick-up line," Tim finished, rolling his eyes.

Conner rubbed his neck uncomfortably. "A little dating advice would be nice, yeah."

Bart and Gar sauntered over, the game completely forgotten. "Man, you are luckier than ever to be a Titan," Gar commented. "You just happen to be on a team full of guys with plenty of dating advice—like me."

"You have dating advice?" Conner repeated, sounding hopeful.

"You date?" Tim and Bart asked in unison, sounding incredulous.

Gar stuck out his lower lip and transformed into a dove. At least, everybody was pretty sure it was supposed to be a dove. It was some kind of bird, but they couldn't tell exactly what it was since it was Gar's trademark green. The bird flapped up to Conner's shoulder and said, "Now, here's what you've gotta do. You have to woo her, right? Be the greatest guy she could ever dream of. Fawn over her left and right. Dote on her, make her feel special. Classic stuff works great. Buy her tons and tons of flowers and jewelry and clothes. Take her out for a night on the town and let her show off how pretty she is. Show her that you'll protect her, that you'll always love her and be there for her, and learn some French."

"Why French?" Conner demanded.

"Because French is the language of _love_, stupid, and she'll go nuts if you know French! Ladies love an intellectual."

"No, they don't," Bart cut in. "Ladies love athletes! You know—strong guys, tough guys, guys that aren't scared of anything or anybody. They're crazy for muscles. Show off your skills once, and she'll be yours."

"French is the way to go. That's how I got Raven."

Bart scoffed. "Please. Raven got with you because she knew how much you wanted her, not because you learned French. And you didn't even learn it; you only know tacky pick-up lines and cuss words."

Gar flew off Conner's shoulder and turned back into his normal self. "Okay, fine, fine. I get it. So, maybe you don't want to go with French. Try poetry. Girls love poetry."

"_Raven_ loves poetry," Bart corrected. Then he turned to Conner. "Don't listen to him. He's only ever had one _real_ girlfriend, so he doesn't know what he's talking about. I'll have you know that _I_ am the resident expert on dating." Conner looked uncertain. "Here, let me prove it to you. This is how you get a girl's attention." Bart turned away and shouted across the island, "Hey, sexy! Your eye patch looks great with that outfit!"

Sure enough, Rose's attention was locked onto him in an instant, and she waved coyly, giggling.

Conner brightened and opened his mouth to do the same…but found that Tim's hand was in the way. Tim shook his head, as if to say, _"Not a good idea."_

"I think you guys are ignoring the one person on this island qualified to give real dating advice," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

The others glanced at each other in confusion. "Who's that?" Conner wondered aloud.

Tim couldn't believe it. "_Me_!" he cried. Conner, Gar, and Bart all began to snicker, and then they outright dissolved into laughter. Tim growled at them, unloading his best Bat-glare and practically shooting ultra-sharp daggers from his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh. Just remember that I've had more girlfriends than all of you combined."

Bart wiped his eyes. "But only two actually stayed for more than a month," he reminded him, still laughing.

Tim shrugged. "So? At least I've had plenty of them." He turned to Conner, all seriousness. "Don't listen to either of them. They're both wrong. The way to get a girlfriend is to exploit the situation around you. You see a hot girl at a party, you ask her to dance. You see her at the mall, you 'accidentally' trip and drop your stuff in front of her so she'll help you and take the time to introduce yourself. You see her at school, and you just walk up and say hi. It's simple."

Conner looked skeptical. "That's it? That's all you did to have five girlfriends in five years?"

Tim nodded.

Conner burst out laughing again. "Yeah, right, sure it is."

Tim scowled. "One of these days, you guys are gonna have to admit that I'm right and you're wrong."

No more words were said as the girls' volleyball arced through the air and slammed into Tim's head, knocking him flat on the ground in front of the whole team.

The other guys erupted into fits of giggles yet again, as did Rose and as did Raven, who could sense that Tim was alright. Cassie and Kiran, however, flew over immediately to check on their friend. "Oh, my gods, Tim, I'm _so_ sorry!" Cassie gushed, taking one of his arms to help pull him to his feet.

"Are you okay?" Kiran asked worriedly, looking him over.

He thought fast. "Y-you know, I…I don't know," he stammered, managing to look confused and weak. "My legs are all wobbly, and everything I look at is all…blurry. I think I might have some head trauma." He paused for a moment, feigning concentration. "What day is this, again?" He returned his gaze to Cassie and Kiran, his eyes wide and vulnerable.

The girls both fell all over him, hugging and kissing him and promising to make him plenty of cookies later to make up for it. Tim hugged them back, smirking at Conner over Cassie's shoulder. He mouthed, "Pwned."

Gar, Bart, and Conner all shook their heads. "Leave it up to the rich guy to steal all the girls," Gar said to himself.


	2. Lessons

"Remind me again why we're here?"

Cassie's comment did not go unnoticed by the others, who all nodded in agreement. Tim pulled open the door to the swanky retreat and remarked, "Because I am _not_ going into that country club alone."

The Titans couldn't help but gaze in awe at the beautifully furnished lobby—the crystal chandeliers, the fine silk drapery, the velvet couches and chairs, the towering polished glass windows—while Tim stalked straight past it all like it wasn't even there and approached the front desk. He waved his teammates over, and they hurried back to his side. "Membership number?" the receptionist asked.

"1538 and seven guests," Tim told her dryly. She entered the number into the computer and nodded.

"Have a good time," she said jovially.

"Don't worry, I won't," Tim muttered through clenched teeth as they walked away.

Emerging from the back doors onto the massive veranda, the Titans could see that the entire place was populated by people dressed in their best, most expensive sporting wear. The wealthy patrons crawled over the golf course, the trails, the pool, the gardens, and the restaurants like brightly-colored and pastel insects, which might've actually been an accurate description, considering it was Gotham City. Tim sighed, slung his pack over his shoulder, and started to descend the curving marble stairway to the unnaturally green grass below. The other Titans followed closely behind. "I don't believe this," Bart was saying as he half-skipped down the steps. "Ivory Glen is the posh of the swanky, rich of the wealthy, cool of the awesome hangout in Gotham, and you _don't like it_ here? What the hell, man? This is great!"

"The bushes have eyes," Tim called over his shoulder.

"What?" Bart took a second look and saw several oddly shiny spots in the bushes, peeking out and flashing every now and then when they were pointed at a particularly rich and/or famous person. There were also many clumps of strangely-colored flower petals attached to plants that looked pretty human, and one very recognizable red-haired plant flashing its eye at Tim about ten times a second. Bart blinked. "Oh."

"I guess this is, like, media circus hotspot central, huh?" Conner remarked. "No wonder you hate it."

"Oh, no, that's not why I don't like it."

Rose and Kiran exchanged a glance. "Then…what's the reason?" Kiran demanded.

Tim had successfully led them all the way to the first hole of the golf course without anybody noticing until he plunked his pack full of clubs down in front of himself. "The dinosaurs that put this place together couldn't make it possible to easily win this damn game."

Gar clapped a hand over his mouth to hide his snicker. "You're serious? _You_, Tim Drake-Wayne, strategist extraordinaire, victory personified, can't figure out how to beat a _golf course_?" He shook his head. "Admission of defeat was something I never thought I'd hear from you."

"Yeah, well, when it's through kicking my ass, I'll remind it to thoroughly kick yours. I brought you guys here because everything that I want to happen always happens when I'm around you. Today, I'm going to make a hole in one that will wipe Bruce's name off that plaque in there by the front desk, and you're going to witness it." He leaned down to place the tee in the ground and positioned the ball on top of it. His fingers fluttered on the handle of the club. "Let's just hope I've got it this time. _Fore!_"

With a hearty swing of the club, he smacked the ball hard enough to knock the tee out of the ground with it. The little white projectile soared across the green, arcing straight over the flag marking the first hole and disappearing into the distance. A crash could be heard from the other side of the course that made Conner flinch and Cassie fold her arms over her chest. Tim bit his lip. "How much do you suppose that costs?" he asked the area in general.

"Five hundred, at least," Raven predicted.

Tim sighed and started off across the green. A golf cart with the windshield smashed out drove up to meet him halfway, and a man climbed out to speak with him. Only Conner could hear what was being said, but the others were pretty sure it was something bad, judging by the angry hand gestures that were made on both sides of the argument. In the end, Tim pulled out his wallet and handed over a wad of cash before walking back over to the others. "I guess it's a good thing it was just a golf cart and not anything _really_ valuable," he said somewhat-brightly. "It was just three-fifty to replace it."

Rose stared at him. "How did you even get let in here?" she inquired sarcastically.

He readied himself to hit the next ball. "Community smartass," he quipped. _"Fore!"_

Gar grabbed his club as he brought it up for another swing and ripped it out of his hands. "Oh, just—_move over_, you suck at this." Tim stepped back as Gar took his place in front of the ball and tee. "Let an expert teach you the right way to golf, okay, kid?"

"Let's hope you're not an expert in golf like you are in dating," Bart retorted, earning a sour look from the elder Titan.

Gar brushed it off quickly and made sure he had Tim's attention. "Now, here's what you're going to do. You have to stand with your feet directly across from each other and shoulder-width apart, and then you connect a—wait, no, that's boxing. Um…okay, so you hold your club with your right hand down low—no, your left—no, wait, dominant hand goes up top and the other hand goes down low. Yeah. So, then, you position yourself to the left of the tee, and then you have to get a feel for the—"

"Oh, for the love of—"

Conner broke off his own sentence by shoving Gar aside, picking up the ball, and flinging it with all his might down the golf course and screaming, _"FORE!"_ People around the eighteenth hole started to cheer and jump up and down, shouting across the green that Tim was great. His jaw dropped, and he turned to Conner, who was standing with his fists clenched at his sides, breathing heavily.

"You got your frickin' hole in one," he snapped. "Now can we _please_ get something to eat? I'm _starving_!"


	3. Blow

"_Back door cracked, we don't need a key, we get in for free, no VIP sleaze…"_

The thumping beat of Ke$ha's "Blow" practically shook Titans Tower from rooftop to basement, drawing the Titans out of their rooms and downstairs to see what was going on. Bart crawled out of his room sometime into the second verse and made his way down the staircase, yawning and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "What the hell?" he grumbled. "I thought it was supposed to be _quiet_ on Sundays…"

He rounded the corner to a very strange sight. An impromptu dance party was taking place in the living room, with the Titans exhibiting several hastily-learned and sloppily-executed dance moves. Rose, Gar, and Raven were dancing together in a circle, trying (and failing) to copy each other's steps. Conner, Cassie, and Kiran were in a more-or-less coordinated line, dancing like they were at a disco. All of them, though, were rather graceless and really weren't very talented. Conspicuously missing from the party was Tim, who sat against the wall with a camcorder, taping the whole thing. He looked up and said, "Don't be shy, Bart. Go ahead and join in."

Bart's eyes returned to his friends, who were still making idiots of themselves on camera. "Aren't you gonna dance?" he asked, avoiding the invitation.

"No, I'm just gonna sit here and tape it."

Bart cringed as Cassie began to sing along to the song, belting out the lyrics and happily ignoring the fact that she lacked both a good voice and a tune. "What for, memory lane or Titans Yearbook or something?"

Tim scoffed. "Hell, no, it's blackmail material; this is going up on YouTube tonight!"

"I see." Bart sank down the wall until he was sitting beside Tim, watching Conner attempt some kind of backward skip-hop thing with his arms pumping in front of him. Needless to say, not looking where he was going cost the tower a very nice lamp that Bart was pretty sure had been around since the team first started and had been moved from the original Titans Tower in New York. (It was certainly ugly enough to be the first team's style, although he'd never say that to Wally for fear of his own safety.)

"Damn it." Tim handed Bart the camcorder as he pushed himself off the floor. "Now I have to go make sure there's no million-dollar damage to the tower like the _last_ time we did this. Keep recording while I'm gone, okay?"

Bart sighed. "Sure." He pointed the camcorder at the others and watched through the little screen to make sure the video was coming out okay. He had to admit that it was pretty funny watching Gar doing the cabbage patch and discreetly trying to get a little closer to Raven than he should've been while the girls were doing some weird butt-shaking thing that _had_ to have come from a music video. He started to snicker. Maybe this blackmail thing wouldn't be so bad, after all…


	4. Pop Tarts

**This little dialog-spine chapter came out of my wanting to delay the Titans' driver's education course until later. Oh, well. Hopefully it's still funny. :D**

_Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle…_

_*Yawn.*_

"Ahem."

_Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle…_

_Creak._

_Rummage, rummage, rummage…_

"Aha! Here we go."

_Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle…_

_Rip._

_Tap. Tap._

_Slide…click!_

_Drum, drum…_

"I wonder how long this takes."

_POP!_

"Aaahhh!"

_BAM!_

_CRASH!_

"Ow!"

_SLAM!_

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"


	5. Poker Face

Kiran loved being a Teen Titan more every day that she spent at the tower. The boys were always so nice to her, the girls were practically her new best friends, and Superboy was majorly hot, so that was a plus. Not to mention that there was almost always _something_ to do. But, despite that little fact, there came a Saturday evening when she found that she had _nothing_ to do. She couldn't work on a case, as there was none; she didn't really feel like going into the music room and listening to Raven play depressing music on the piano; she wasn't hungry, so she couldn't cook; she'd already beaten every video game they had; it was pointless to go paint her nails with Cassie, since her powers would just fry off the polish in a matter of a few dozen hours, anyway; and she wasn't totally sure that sparring with Rose in the weight room or the gym would be such a good idea. She had her health and sanity to consider, after all.

_Face it,_ she thought to herself as she wandered around the tower aimlessly. _As much as you hate to admit it, girl—you're bored._

So...logically, that left the only option as going to see what the guys were doing.

Kiran found them all congregated in the basement, sitting around a round table with the lights dimmed so that it looked like something out of a gangster movie. They sat perfectly still with cards clasped in their hands, giving each other the stare-down over a pile of chips and money. She stepped up behind Tim, planting her hands on her hips. "What're you doing?" she demanded good-naturedly.

Tim twisted around in his seat and draped an arm over the back. "Playing poker," he explained, smiling sweetly at her. "Do you wanna—?"

Bart was at his side in an instant, his hand clamped over Tim's mouth. "No," he snarled. "She does _not_ want to join in your little torture session and end up getting swindled out of all of her hard-earned money. Right, Kiran?"

She blinked at him. "Well, actually…"

Gar and Conner threw down their cards. "I'm out," Gar sighed, rubbing his temples. "I may as well just stop while I have a few dollars left."

"Oh, c'mon," Tim teased, turning back to the others. "What's a couple of bucks in the grand scheme of things?"

"Nothing to you," Conner quipped. "You're a multibillionaire, Tim; it's not like you don't already have your own money to go and spend. But, no, you _have_ to spend _our_ money. You know, it'll take another month of mowing lawns and watching kids for people to make back everything I lost to you."

Tim shrugged. "Risk you take when you gamble with me."

"That's only because you don't play fair!" Bart insisted.

Kiran cleared her throat to remind them that she was still in the room. "If you boys are out, I'll play," she told them solemnly.

Jaws dropped and eyes bulged at her statement. "You don't want to do that, Kiran," Gar warned her.

"Yes, I do," the girl said firmly. To prove her point, she crossed the room, pulled Gar's chair out from underneath him, and sat down in it. "Deal me in," she instructed Tim, who happily collected the cards off the table and began to reshuffle the deck.

The other boys moved to encircle the table, watching with interest. It was a well-known fact that Tim Drake was the only eighteen-year-old vigilante in the pack that had a poker face to rival that of even the Batman himself. While it proved an effective mask to keep others from noticing how he was really feeling during, say, an argument, it was also the bane of all those in the tower who liked to play poker. Even the older Titans refused to gamble with Tim for fear of losing a month's worth of wages (or more, if they were particularly unlucky) to the stoic, straight-faced young man. It was a reputation he'd garnered for himself at the tender age of fourteen, and he was proud of it. As he split the deck between himself and Kiran, he couldn't help but inwardly smirk at her hopeful naïveté. Poor girl didn't stand a chance against him. In the ensuing minutes, bets were placed, cards were drawn, and facial expressions were expertly held. The tide tossed and turned like a sick kid in bed with a high fever, favoring one or the other at sporadic intervals.

Then, at last, after two long hours of poker-playing, Titans Tower rumbled with Tim's shocked exclamation.

"_WHAT!"_

"Full house," Kiran repeated calmly. "I win."

Tim's booming cry drew the attention of Raven, Cassie, and Rose, who all hurried down to the basement to see what had transpired. The first thing any of them saw was Bart rolling on the floor, laughing so hard that his face was starting to turn bright red, and Gar drawling, "See? You can't _always_ get the best of everyone." The girls rounded the corner and caught quite the sight. Red Robin and Solstice were sitting at the famed Titans poker table. Conner was massaging Tim's shoulder comfortingly as he dug in his wallet and began forking over money to a smug, smirking Kiran. Rose snickered a bit. Raven and Cassie were too shocked to say anything.

"What on earth…?" Cassie started, but she trailed off, putting the pieces together in her mind.

Tim didn't turn around, but his voice held enough venomous disbelief that she could tell how strongly he felt about it. "I _lost_," he spat. "I _never_ lose, but—_I lost_."

"How'd _that_ happen?" Raven wondered aloud.

Tim flailed a hand at Kiran, who was eagerly counting her newfound cash. "Ask her."

Rose, meanwhile, was leaning over Kiran's shoulder, watching her thumb through green slips of paper money with a wistful look on her face. "How much did you get?" she asked.

Kiran finished counting and replied, "One thousand, twelve hundred dollars exactly."

Tim buried his face in his hands, shaking his head and moaning. Conner patted his shoulder as Cassie came up behind him to do the same. "There, there," she soothed. "I'm sure you'll make it back in the stock market within a week." She bit her lip. "I hate to say it, but…you're a multibillionaire, Tim. Your net worth is probably almost the same as Bruce's. Don't you think you're taking this a little too seriously?"

"_No,"_ Tim told her forcefully. "I am _not_ taking this a little too seriously. I _lost_. I _never_ lose."

"Cheer up, man," Bart advised, through with his incessant giggles—for the moment, anyway. "I mean, it's not like you could've held the title forever." He couldn't help himself. He began to laugh again, prompting another groan from Tim.

"And now we'll never hear the end of it," Gar muttered.


	6. Tournament

It always irked Rose when somebody didn't follow through on a commitment. It didn't really matter what it was, per se; there were certain circumstances she could understand, after all. This, though, was thoroughly pissing her off, and that was difficult to do, contrary to popular belief.

It was only the third or fourth week of Tim being back as leader of the Titans. When he'd accepted the position of leadership, he'd practically cemented his presence at the tower every weekend. And, of course, what did she find when she woke up that Saturday? A conspicuous absence of one rather loud, obnoxious, annoying, arrogant, know-it-all, hero complex-sporting seventeen-going-on-eighteen-year-old vigilante, that's what. She couldn't believe it. No, she _could_ believe it. This was _Tim Drake_, the _one_ hot guy around Titans Tower—a place known for its sexy males in tight costumes, which was practically easy picking—who had a problem with commitments. True, her thing for him had come and gone, but she'd experienced it herself. Plus, what normal person went through five girlfriends in an equal number of years? That just _screamed_ "I can't keep a promise to save my life"!

Around noon, she dragged herself out of her room and her nice, cozy angsting session to see what the racket downstairs was all about. She really didn't know why; after all, every other day that she tried that ended in ruined hair, screaming fests, and pranks gone wrong, to name only a mere sprinkling of the outcomes that could possibly occur. There really was no need to turn a peaceful day of imagining all the terrible things she could do to Tim into chaos yet again. But, she told herself, her curiosity just would not be sated with the knowledge that this would not end well. So, she went downstairs and found everyone holed up in the media room, shouting and laughing and carrying on over…live news footage on the flatscreen.

"Oh, did you see that?" Conner crowed, pointing at the screen. "That's my _boy_!"

"I sincerely hope not," Cassie commented, and Kiran gave Conner a pointed glare.

Rose leaned against the back of the chair that Bart happened to be sitting in, watching the footage with interest. It involved a bunch of weird-looking people (who wore bright orange lingerie in the battlefield, anyway?) fighting against one very familiar-looking young vigilante dressed in red and black, with gold utility belts on his chest and around his waist. "Oh, my dear freaking hell," Rose found herself saying around a dropped jaw. "That's Tim."

"Damn straight, it's Tim!" Bart cried fiercely. "And he's kicking major ass on live national television!"

Rose was somehow more surprised about the fact that Tim was doing what he did on TV than the fact that Bart Allen was cussing. But whatever claimed more of her shock was drowned out by her fury. "And he couldn't do that _here_, with _us_, because…?"

Gar shrugged nonchalantly. "He said something about some Assassination Tournament," he offered by way of explanation. "Said he might not show up at the tower this weekend—if he survives. He says they're competing for ultimate knowledge over strife and breath or something."

"_Life_ and _death_," Raven corrected. "The prize is ultimate knowledge over life and death. And Tim, apparently, is the primary target. If they kill him, they win the prize."

Rose blinked at the other Titans. "Damn. They should've just asked me. I'd have done it free of charge!"


	7. Eddie

**I'm sorry. I had to do a serious chapter, and this was begging to be written. It would be a crime to ignore this.**

Raven figured that, being surrounded by the kind of violence and heartache that seemed to accompany being a superhero, she ought to have been used to waking up in the morning to the feeling of sorrow underlying the joyous air. That morning, though, it caught her off guard simply because the air was practically permeated with grief, rolling in waves from downstairs. Slowly, she got up, got dressed, and made her way down, letting her empathy guide her to the source.

She wasn't very surprised to find herself pushing through the doors of the Hall of Fallen Titans and approaching a black-caped figure who stood still and solitary before one of the newest statues. His head was tipped back to gaze up at a red, pointy-eared face with flowing white hair and horns that curled up from the forehead. A pitchfork tail curled around the legs, and a mischievous grin showed from beneath glowing eyes. A gleaming plaque had been nailed to the pedestal on which the statue had been erected, bearing the name of the fallen young hero: **RED DEVIL**. Raven stepped up beside Tim and slid a hand onto his shoulder, instinctively drawing some of his sadness into her own body to relieve him of the burden. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. "I didn't hear you come in," he murmured, his voice thick and hoarse with emotion.

Raven decided to get to the heart of the situation. "You know he would've said goodbye if he'd had the chance to," she told him softly.

He nodded. "I know, I just…" Tim trailed off for a moment, as if uncertain whether or not to go on. "You know, I…I was still off looking for Bruce, when Eddie…when he died. I left my phone back at my safe house in Gotham, so when it happened, I…I never got the message."

Raven hadn't heard anyone say the words "died", "die", "death", or "dead" since Eddie had passed. She wasn't sure—and this was the real shocker—she wasn't sure if it was because they were all still in denial, they wished it hadn't happened, they didn't think they needed to talk about it, or some combination of all of them. She could sense that the others were hoping that, by trying to move on, they could drown the still-present pain in their hearts and souls, but this soul, right here, standing in front of her, was the only one who understood. He knew that there was no way to shut it out beyond ignoring it. So, he chose to confront it. After all, ignorance of his emotions had turned him into a completely different person than what he'd used to be, didn't it?

"I would've gone to the funeral," Tim continued, "but, like I said, I didn't know. And I just…I feel terrible, because I never really thought about mourning for him, even after I found out. I kept telling myself that my work was the first thing that had to be taken care of. We weren't really friends or anything, but we were never enemies, either. We watched out for each other, and there were times when he would make me less of a hermit crab, holed up in my shell, and I miss that. And, for the life of me, I can't figure out why I only ever thought about doing this _now_, six and a half months after he left us."

Raven took a second look and saw that Tim had a rosary wrapped around his hand, the crucifix dangling from the beaded chain and shining silvery in the dim light of the room. She cocked her head. "You're Catholic?"

Tim nodded. "I haven't been a part of the Church for very long, but…I didn't really have any other place to turn to."

"So, Eddie finally managed to get you to do _something_ for him, I take it."

Tim nodded again, laughing a little bit. "I just feel so awful that I never made an effort until right now."

"You know what they say: better late than never." Raven sidled closer to him and lowered her tone, ignoring the fact that they were in an empty room with hardly any cameras whatsoever. "Eddie wouldn't want you to hold this against yourself. If he was here, right now, and this was somebody else's statue, you know what he'd do? He'd drag you away by your ankles to go play Wii with him or something. He'd tell you that you're brooding too much again. But, most importantly, he'd tell you that you're blaming yourself for something that isn't even that big of a deal." She squeezed Tim's shoulder reassuringly. "He was a good person, Tim, and a good friend. He's not suffering anymore, and he'd want you to remember that. Sometimes, people delay giving their grief any attention because they're not quite ready to deal with it yet. You know what that's like, I'm sure."

"Yeah, I do." Tim glanced down at his feet before returning his eyes to the statue's face. "I bet he's lounging around in paradise right now, gorging on a ton of sweets and feeling absolutely no shame."

Raven chuckled softly. "I bet, in a few decades, you'll be up there in paradise with him, eating up all their chocolate cake."

"Aw, hell, we'd start a food fight."


	8. Movie Day Pt 1

That day was supposed to be the Titans' movie day. They were all lounging around in the media room, watching film after film on Netflix, commenting every so often on special effects or acting abilities. It was actually a pretty successful movie day, too, considering that by three o'clock that afternoon, and having started at eight in the morning, they'd already been through _The Matrix_, _The Bourne Identity_, _Taken_, and _The Grudge_. They were in the middle of watching _Despicable Me_ (Bart's pick—he needed a comedy to keep his head from exploding) when the scene currently playing on the flatscreen was punctuated by several loud, long, drawn-out grumbling noises.

The Titans glanced at each other warily. They'd forgotten to grab snacks from upstairs, and that always meant trouble. Gar rubbed his stomach, looking uncertain. "Um…"

"I'm hungry," Tim announced bravely, moving to get off the couch he'd sprawled on. "Does anybody want anything?"

Before any answers could be given, Cassie was pushing him back down onto the cushions and planting her hands on her hips. "Oh, no, you don't," she said firmly. "You just got back from almost dying for the fourth time this year, and you deserve a rest. _I'll_ take care of the snacks."

It was a proven fact that you hardly ever offered to go get snacks at Titans Tower on movie day, because, if you did, it was usually the only person who _couldn't_ cook that would insist they'd go get them for you. And it would never be something you could just pull out of the pantry, something premade and packaged and fit for human consumption. It would always have to be something they made themselves from scratch. This movie day, just like clockwork, Cassie was the one who wanted to go make something for them all to eat.

"Uh, Cassie, that's...that's not really necessary," Tim argued weakly. "I'm perfectly capable of getting snacks myself."

He went to stand and was pushed back down again by the now-indignant Cassie. "Oh, c'mon, why won't you let me do just this one thing for you, just this once?" she demanded.

Tim shrugged, opting for the truth over something that wouldn't offend her. "Because the chances of your cooking actually turning out edible are about the same as the chances of me getting married before I'm retired."

"What are the chances of that?" Kiran asked.

"Not good," Tim replied.

Cassie glared at him, towering over him menacingly. "I'm getting the frickin' snacks," she growled, "and you're gonna eat them, and you're gonna like them. No questions asked. Understood?"

The Titans gave a collective flinch and meekly nodded, resigning themselves to their fates. They figured that, if destiny willed them to die by consumption of something that wasn't even fit to be jokingly called food, they might as well just get it over with. They were also pretty sure that, if Cassie was still down there with them, she would've been insulted that no one bothered to get up when the smoke alarms started blaring five or ten minutes into their next movie. Shortly after that, she reentered the room in an excited rush, announcing, "Chocolate cookies coming right up, fresh out of the oven!" She pried a few off the cookie sheet and handed them out to her teammates, watching their faces as they ate—or attempted to eat, anyway.

Gar, Bart, and Tim bit into theirs simultaneously, grimacing in pain and yanking them out of their mouths immediately afterward. Tim reached up to feel one of his teeth. "Damn it, there goes that filling again." Kiran licked hers like a lollipop, her poker face (for once) failing her. Only Conner, in all his invulnerable half-Kryptonian glory, could keep a straight face as he tore a chunk out of the rock-hard black lump in his hand. He chewed thoughtfully, making a noise not entirely dissimilar to crunching concrete with a slow-motion jackhammer. At last, he voiced his thoughts.

"Cassie, I think you might need to take them out of the oven sooner next time. They're a little bit well-done."


	9. Movie Day Pt 2

**This chapter contains spoilers for **_**Tangled**_**. You have been warned.**

_Tangled _was turning out to be a pretty good movie…but Gar had to quickly add "for a Disney fairy tale" to avoid seeming like a pansy. It was funny, it was romantic, it had just the right sprinkling of action, and they actually showed a little blood. Since when did Disney show blood in a movie that wasn't about pirates?

But the whole thing about the magic flower had proved kind of cliché in the end. Okay, so it was cool that it was like a little Fountain of Youth thingy or whatever, but making it into a draught for the sick queen that gave her kid super-long golden hair that held the same power as the flower? Gar would be lying if he said that wasn't a little bit weird. He liked the movie, sure, and it was definitely one to watch again, but it did nothing to change his opinion that the use of magic in a film, no matter what the genre, was an avoidance of an explanation in order to cover up the fact that none of it was really possible and that, when people die, there is no cutesy princess with huge blue eyes there to make them pet her hair while she sings a song that will magically heal them. They just _die_. They don't come back.

Oh, wait—never mind.

It was actually getting kind of tense in the media room, watching Mother Gothel stab Flynn and then fall to her death while Rapunzel tried to tend to Flynn's wounds. Gar could've sworn he heard Raven gasp when Flynn cut the girl's hair off to prevent her from healing him with it. They all watched with bated breath as she sang and a golden tear fell from her eye, landing on her beau. Sure enough, within a minute, color returned to his cheeks, and he began to stir.

Rose leapt up off the couch, yelling, _"WHAT THE HELL?"_

Conner held his ears. "Ow! Super-hearing," he reminded her.

"I don't _care_! That's a damn Hollywood _copout_ right there! _Everybody_ uses the excuse of a magical teardrop to fix their problems! Why can't Disney ever make a movie that ends sadly? I mean, _c'mon_!"

"Rose. Calm down," Bart said gently. "It's just a movie."

"I _know_!"

"Sit back down, Rose," Cassie sighed in exasperation.

Rose folded her arms and plopped back down on the couch. "Well, shit! If you can't think of something original to revive him with, why bring him back at all?"

Gar started rubbing his temples. He'd make sure the next movie they watched was something nice and original with a bad ending, just so Rose wouldn't do that again. Maybe he could see if they still had _The Mist_ in stock somewhere…

**Author's Note: Please don't misjudge and think I dislike **_**Tangled**_**. I actually really enjoyed that movie. This is just based off the various reactions of my family when we watched it together and reached the teardrop scene.**


	10. Angsting

Gar was rubbing sleep out of his eyes when he went down for breakfast that particular Sunday. He wouldn't have even made it downstairs on his own if it hadn't have been for the tantalizing aroma of freshly-cooked sausage, eggs, toast, and bacon that was pulling him to the breakfast table against his will. He yawned, tottered sleepily on his feet, and entered the dining room, still wiping at his eyes. That was what he blamed the sight that awaited him on.

Tim and Rose were sitting at opposite ends of the table, perfectly motionless. Tim had his hands clasped in front of his face and was peering over the top of his fingers, while Rose was resting her jaw on her palms. Both of them stared at each other, breaking their gazes only for the occasional blink. Steaming plates of the mouth-watering breakfast dish were sitting in front of them, utterly untouched (which, if you asked Gar, was a crime, considering his honey was the best breakfast cook in the tower).

He stepped up cautiously beside Tim and asked, "What're you guys—"

"Shhh," Tim hissed. "We're angsting."

Gar glanced from Tim to Rose, then back to Tim, and then back to Rose. "Um, okay…may I ask why?"

"He thinks he has the worst life on the planet," Rose explained. "Raven helped us get a telepathic link going here, so we're feeding each other our worst memories. And when you hear him crying like a pathetic little baby later today, just know that I won, like I always knew I would."

"Yeah, yeah, keep talking. I _will_ angst you out."

"We'll see about that."

Gar could've talked them out of it…could've told them how stupid it was, or that they'd just end up hurting themselves (and, therefore, everyone else) by doing this…but he hated to be a party pooper, so he decided to just let things unfold however they would. Besides, just letting them be would probably save his life as opposed to getting him killed slowly and painfully by the two most volatile people he had ever met. Raven came in with a plate of breakfast for him, and he sat down to eat it. The others crawled out of their rooms for a sampling or three of the heavenly banquet, and they all sat down to eat. And throughout it all, Tim and Rose continued to angst. Gar was almost through inhaling his eggs when they both simultaneously pushed away from the table and buried their faces in their hands, sobbing loudly.

The other Titans stared with varying degrees of surprise, confusion, and amusement written across their faces. Conner looked at Kiran before reaching out to place a hand on Tim's shoulder. "Uh, Tim…are you guys okay?"

"No!" Tim shouted through his tears. "Our lives are _horrible_!"

"R-Raven," Rose blubbered, "I'm sure b-breakfast is f-fantastic, but-but-but I-I'm not really hungry right now."

Raven looked flabbergasted. "That's…that's okay, Rose."

Rose sniffled. "I-I'll b-be in my r-room if you n-need me…but you probably won't!" She covered her face with her hands again and dashed upstairs.

"I'm gonna go take a walk," Tim announced, standing up so fast that he tipped his chair over. "If I don't come back in, I've thrown myself into the ocean. I might as well. Nobody likes me anyway!" And then he stalked out the front door, slamming it behind him.

The Titans, meanwhile, still sat in astonishment at the emotional breakdowns. Gar calmly placed his fork down on his plate. "I call not going after the tantrum-throwing bird boy." He was immediately fixed with six dark glares. "What?"


	11. Dog People

Conner liked to think of himself as a bit of a dog person. True, he'd only ever really had one dog, but that dog happened to be Krypto, the Last Dog of Krypton, and he thought that was warranting some kind of merit in his favor. After all, he might've been half-Kryptonian himself, but it was pretty damn hard to take care of a dog that flew, shot lasers out of his eyes, and could tear titanium doors off their hinges about as easily as a normal dog might shake around a chew toy. Plus, he was _very_ cantankerous, which just made it that much worse for Conner. That day, he was dragging said cantankerous dog along behind him as he struggled through the open front door of Titans Tower, trying to convince the snarling, furry monster to come with him. "Come _on_, boy," he grunted, yanking on Krypto's leash. "It's just Titans Tower. You remember this place, don't you?"

Krypto stubbornly refused to go inside, plunking down on his butt and growling at the doorway. Conner gave the leash another tug and snapped it off the dog's collar. Giving a huff of frustration, he stalked over and scooped his pet up under his arm, resolutely ignoring the fight he was putting up. "Krypto—stop that, Krypto! We're just going to see the Titans! It's not like it's gonna be…"

He trailed off when he saw who was sitting in the lobby waiting for them, or, rather, what was sitting in the lobby waiting for them. He'd thought Krypto was a monster; well, this thing was a demon. Its fur was stark black and glossy, its ears flopped around its wide, dark eyes, and its long, pink tongue lolled out of its mouth, dripping saliva onto the floor in pools that Conner could've sworn reached all the way to where he stood two yards away. The demon thing cocked its head at them, letting out a deep, booming bark that made Conner's super-eardrums hurt like hell. For once in his life, he wasn't sure of what to do, so he cautiously approached the beast, saying over Krypto's yapping, "Um…h-hey, there…boy? Who do you belong to, huh?" He reached down to pet its head.

"He's mine."

Conner was startled by the voice of his best friend and turned to see Tim emerging from the kitchen with a Pop Tart in his hand. He sat down beside the slobbering black animal and absentmindedly scratched behind its ears while he munched on his jelly-filled bread square. Conner looked on in disbelief. "That thing…belongs to _you_?" he repeated, still not quite getting it.

"Yeah," Tim answered around a mouthful of Pop Tart.

Now Conner was utterly baffled. "But…I thought you hated dogs."

Tim shrugged. "I changed my mind. His name's Ace. You like him?" He gave the dog another affectionate rub behind the ears.

Conner didn't want to offend his friend, but the dog was scaring _him_, and he was Superboy. "Sure," he lied. "How'd you find him?" Tim pondered the question for a moment.

_Bruce thrusts Ace's leash into the hands of a startled Tim the moment he walks through the door. "Take this hellhound away from my house—_rightnow_."_

Tim shrugged again. "He was just kind of…there."

Conner nodded slowly, shifting the still-barking Krypto under his arm so that they were both more comfortable. "And I take it he'll be staying at the tower for a while?"

"We both will."

"How long is that gonna be?"

Tim frowned. "Well, don't sound so enthused, man. It's just for this week. My house is being fumigated. I get the damn thing finished, I get it decorated, I'm ready to move in…and then the exterminator wants to fumigate it. I'm starting to think Bruce is trying to find ways to keep me out of Gotham for a few days or more."

Conner didn't have a hard time believing that one.

He opened his mouth to say something more—but then Krypto wiggled out of his grasp and landed squarely on all fours, growling viciously at the intruder in "his" tower. Ace stared dumbly at the Kryptonian hound before letting out a joyful, thunderous bark that reverberated off every wall and practically shook the floors.

Krypto's lower lip trembled. He gave a small whimper before taking off into the air, only to have a panting, grinning Ace tear after him. "Shit!" Tim yelled. "Ace, get back here _right now_! _Ace! Damn it!_"

"Come back, Krypto!" Conner found himself calling simultaneously. "It's okay! Ace isn't gonna hurt you, Krypto!"

The boys raced after their respective pets, embarking on a mad dash throughout the entire tower that lasted another hour. When they finally got their dogs calmed down, the others were walking through the doors to a sight that would burn into their memories forever. Tim and Conner sat back-to-back on the floor of the lobby, surrounded by a mess of broken pots, mangled plants, and shredded toilet paper. Ace lay with his head resting on Tim's left thigh, while Krypto reclined against Conner's right leg. Boys and dogs alike wore the same expression of utter hatred on their faces. "I loathe you," Tim snarled.

"Same to you, bird boy," Conner snapped back. "You just _had_ to bring your untrained, disobedient _demon_ with you to the tower this weekend, didn't you? And _now_ look what you've done! Poor Krypto's so scared of that thing that it's not even funny!" At said dog's whine, he scratched it behind its ears comfortingly. "There, there, boy, it's okay. I won't let that mean doggie scare you again."

"Hey, this is _not_ my fault!" Tim insisted, patting Ace's side. "And it's not my dog's fault, either. _Yours _is just a pansy pooch." Ace ruffed in what was probably agreement, prompting Tim to lean forward and jostle the canine's head playfully while speaking in the most embarrassingly ridiculous baby voice. "Yeah, that's right. He's just a pansy pooch!"

"Krypto is the Last Dog of Krypton for a _reason_!"

"What's that, asshole? He pleaded with the Powers-That-Be to spare him and they did to make him stop groveling?"

Bart sighed and buried his face in his hands. Cassie stalked forward and hauled the boys off the floor by their ears. "You _will_ clean up this mess," she commanded. "And you will do it while speaking to one another in a civil tone of voice _without_ name-calling. _Do you understand me?_" They nodded furiously—if only to get her off of them. She released them and pointed upstairs. "Get to work." They obediently slunk off to begin a long day of chores. She turned to the dogs still lying on the floor in front of her. They looked up at her sweetly, hopefully, earning a shake of the head. "Don't even make me start with you two."


	12. Future

Usually, mornings at Titans Tower were punctuated by the meaningless chatter of the several teenagers and young adults within, but that morning, everything was mostly silent. Rose had slept in (it _was_ the second Sunday of the month, you know) and made her way downstairs cautiously, expecting to find some gruesome sight straight out of a horror movie waiting for her as explanation for the eerie quiet that enveloped the building. But, no, she just saw all seven of her teammates, sitting in the living room, and…brooding.

She shook her head. No, that couldn't be right. She _had_ to still be dreaming. Brooding was the job of the resident Bat-kid, and the last time she checked they only had one of those. Whenever there was brooding to be done, the task always fell to the Bats, never to the Supers or the Wonders or the Flashes or the various other assorted heroes and heroines around the tower. So, logically, conceivably, the only one who really should've been brooding was Tim. And he was; but a few short, quick eye-rubs later, Rose confirmed that everybody else was, too. So, this was either real or a very convincing dream.

She tiptoed up to the group and looked them all over. Tim sat in an armchair, scowling into the distance. Cassie was stretched out on the love seat, Bart sat up against it with his legs straight out in front of him, and they both wore blank expressions. Raven was snuggled up in a corner of the couch with Gar, in dog form, lying across her lap. Conner sat perfectly motionless at the other end of the couch, and Kiran occupied the middle, resting her head on Conner's shoulder and holding his hand with her legs up on the cushion. Rose glanced around once again, wondering if it was a safe idea to bring them all out of their trance. But, hey, since when did she care about safe? She shrugged and then asked, as loudly as possible without it turning into a scream, "What're we all brooding about?"

Tim blinked, but otherwise didn't move. "We're not brooding," he mumbled distractedly.

"Yeah, it's so apparent." Rose plopped down on the floor and leaned against the couch. "Seriously, what's going on? I thought it was Red's job to be freaky."

"We're not brooding, Rose," Cassie said. "We're just…thinking."

"About…?"

"When we saw the future," Bart explained. "Last time we caught a peek ten years ahead, we were all bad guys, but the circumstances that brought that about have apparently been changed. So, we were wondering if that means that, in the future, we're no longer evil, or if it's just the inevitable outcome of all _this_." He gestured around at the area in general to indicate their time frame.

Rose tipped her head back and stared up at the ceiling, deeper in thought than she'd ever been in her life. (It was deep for her, anyway.) "That's a good point," she mused. "I guess we won't know for sure until we get there, huh?"

**Ten years later…**

"_What the hell happened to my sword?"_

Rose's harsh shout did not go unnoticed in Titans Tower. It was actually pretty hard to ignore, anyway, what with the way it shook the walls and floors. She stomped into the living room, so livid she was practically foaming at the mouth. She was soon followed by Cassie, who glided down the stairwell with her arms crossed, which had to be uncomfortable, given the combination of silver Amazon bracelets on her arms pressing against a rather stiff gold breastplate on her chest. She muttered to herself, "Doom of Olympus, if I lose one more skirt, I'm upgrading to pants."

Tim came out of the kitchen to meet the fuming women, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the newspaper tucked under the opposite arm. "Something wrong, ladies?" he asked.

Rose stormed directly up to him and got right up in his face. "What the hell happened to my sword?" she repeated.

He thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Last I saw the thing it was up in your room. You took it with you last night, remember?"

"Yeah, I _do_ remember. But that _doesn't_ explain why it's _not there now_!"

"And I seem to be missing my favorite skirt," Cassie piped up behind her teammate. "You know what happens when my favorite skirt is unaccounted for. And this time, I promise you, you _will_ see sights so sickening that no horror movie can top them."

Tim set his coffee and newspaper down to place his hands on Rose's shoulders in a calming gesture. "Now, now, you two, I'm sure there's a reasonable—"

"_You_ took them, didn't you?" Rose accused, interrupting him.

He shook his head vigorously. "No, no, I didn't. It was Bart." His diaphragm and larynx simultaneously spasmed to create a noise that sounded suspiciously close to a short, cut-off laugh.

"My husband wouldn't do such a thing," Rose insisted, "especially not to his own wife, and _definitely_ not as a practical joke. He's got more respect for his life than that."

"Seriously, he…" Tim trailed off into snickers. Rose violently batted his hands off her shoulders and slapped him—hard—across the face. He still laughed. "Hey, I was telling the truth. I said he took them. I never said it was his plan!"

Cassie shook her head. "I cannot believe the world depends on _you_," she remarked.

"You're _impossible_!" Rose screeched in unison.

Tim looked offended. "I was impossible when we were twenty," he corrected her. "Now that it's been eight years, I should've graduated to the bane of your existence." Rose growled in frustration, clutched at her hair, and turned on her heel to stalk away. Cassie took the opportunity to turn on Tim.

"Can't you do something _useful_ on a slow Saturday?" she demanded coldly. "Like—oh, I don't know—patrolling the city to see if anyone needs your help or going back to Gotham to pull this crap with Batman instead of turning yourself into the biggest jackass at the tower?"

Tim shrugged. "I have to have _something_ to occupy my time with. It keeps me from going insane."

Cassie rolled her eyes and flew away, presumably to go turn the whole tower inside-out looking for her favorite skirt. Conner and Bart came in from outside at that moment, watching her go off in a huff. Conner turned to Tim with a sympathetic look on his face that only deepened when he saw how red his best friend's cheek was. "I take it that the joke wasn't a hit?"

Tim shook his head sadly, sighing. "Nobody appreciates genius."


	13. Task at Hand

**I **_**was**_** gonna do this after the Titans' driver's ed…but the idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write it. Don't worry; next chapter is driver's ed for sure!**

Four giggling figures tiptoed into the monitor room at midnight on Sunday, loaded down with gear. Holsters were strapped to their sides, and pockets full of ammunition hung from belts that were secured to their waists, arms, legs, and backs. Noiselessly, like phantoms, they sidled up to their target, preparing for the task at hand.

Red Robin was sound asleep, slumped over onto his desk with his arms cushioning his head like makeshift pillows. His breathing was slow and rhythmic, indicating deep sleep—perfect for the four young women now poised behind him. His cape was draped over the back of the chair, spilling onto the floor in black waves of rough Kevlar.

The girls pulled their weapons out and loaded them, aiming for the kill shot. They executed their job with perfect timing, flawless precision. Now all that remained was to wait for the reactions of the other Titans in only a few short hours.

Later that morning, said Titans were gathered in the dining room, enjoying a good breakfast. It had been Cassie's turn to cook—something they'd been avoiding for a few months on purpose—but, thanks to Raven's patient coaching (and eagle-eyed supervision), the meal had actually turned out edible. Plus, it had flavor that _didn't_ send everyone running for the nearest toilet and clamoring to have their turn throwing up into it. Of course, that wasn't to say that everyone would end up in a bathroom; they only had so many of those, after all. The girls would probably fight it out for the bathrooms, while the guys either escaped outdoors or into the garage, the latter of which would bring the wrath of Red Robin down on their heads for weeks to come.

But, that's off-topic.

Anyway, they were all sitting around the table, eating their meal and graciously letting their leader sleep in. He had a hard enough time, what with all the hot girls constantly trying to kill him every time he turned around, without going sleepless to boot. So, they decided they'd let him have a freebie, just this once. They thought he was still taking advantage of it when they heard him roar from upstairs, _"Oh, my—what the hell?"_

They flinched in time with every footstep as he stormed into the dining room. It was hard not to, considering that every footstep was practically like slamming the floor with a Harley Quinn-sized mallet. He stopped at the head of the table, fuming so much that they could practically see the steam rising from his face and ears. "Okay," he said with a quaver in his voice that meant his rage was just barely being controlled. "Who is responsible for this?"

The Titans glanced at each other in confusion. "What are you talking about?" Bart demanded. Tim puffed his bangs out of his eyes with a blast of air and turned around, holding out his cape at full length.

Now, nobody was really sure how Titans Tower became stocked with so many Bedazzler gems, and the last time anybody had checked, nobody at the tower even _had_ a Bedazzler. And yet, there they sat, staring at the rather sizeable pink unicorn and rainbow background that had been bedazzled onto Tim's once-stark black cape. He shifted his weight onto his left leg, sending a ripple through the fabric that caused the gems to catch the sunlight and sparkle, which, in turn, prompted a few chuckles. Gar scratched his chin and asked, as thoughtfully as possible, "Is this your way of coming out?"

Tim whirled around again, furious. "No," he spat. "I am _not_ coming out! I fell asleep in the monitor room last night, and when I woke up, this was here!" At the skeptical looks he received, he added heatedly, "Stop looking at me like I did this to myself! I didn't do it!"

"Well…neither did any of us," Conner told him.

"Why don't you go shower up and get changed?" Raven suggested gently. "We'll figure this out later."

Tim rolled his eyes and stalked back upstairs.

The second he was out of sight and earshot, the Titans burst into laughter. Cassie gave Kiran a high-five, crowing, "Your initiation prank was a complete success! You did it, girl! Welcome to the Teen Titans!"


	14. Relapse

**I'm sorry! I had to do another serious chapter, and if I didn't write this now, I would've forgotten about it!**

The bathroom was supposed to be girls' territory. It was supposed to be the secluded fortress they'd lock themselves in every morning that could only be penetrated by threat of nuclear annihilation…and only reluctantly then. So, needless to say, it was a little odd for Rose to find Tim shut up in the bathroom on Saturday morning that weekend.

She pounded on the door with her tightly-clenched left fist, calling through the wood, "You better not hog that much longer, Red! I'm in the mood for a Boy Wonder kebab today!"

Surprisingly enough, Tim's voice emanated from behind the door with a degree of actual…_fear_ in it. "I-I'm almost done," he stammered, sounding shaken.

That caught her off guard. Never had she ever heard Tim Drake talk like he was afraid. And there was something else there, too, like guilt that he'd been caught doing something. She noticed that the door was slightly ajar and, to satisfy her curiosity, began to push it open, only to have it collide with a solid, five-foot-nine-and-a-half-inch body on the other side trying to hold it closed. She heard something clatter to the floor inside the bathroom and peered through the crack in the door to see something she'd never thought she'd see. A needle and syringe lay on the tile, only small droplets of liquid still inside, suggesting it'd just recently been emptied. The sharp metal point of the needle was stained red, and a ball of toilet paper rested not far from it, dotted with spots of blood.

_Shit,_ Rose thought, pressing herself against the door. Her heart softened just a little. She'd known he was going through a bit of a rough time, but it couldn't really be that bad…could it? "Tim," she said, as gently as she could manage, "if you're struggling with, like, some kind of weird addiction or whatever, you don't have to hide it from the Titans. We can help you get over it."

Rose stumbled and about fell into the bathroom when Tim jerked the door open. He stood before her, all messy hair and a tired expression, like usual, but something seemed off. He was a little paler than normal, and if she wasn't mistaken, there was a little dried blood on the skin around his eyes. "I'm not on drugs," he all but snapped. "I'm just…" He trailed off, and then his boldness faded. He bent down to retrieve the needle and balled-up toilet paper from the floor.

"You're just what?"

He was running the needle under hot water now, cleaning it with all the precision of an experienced medical doctor. "Nothing, Rose." He slipped the now-clean utensil back into his med pack, threw the toilet paper ball away, and went to leave…

But Rose's arm was stretched across the doorway, blocking his exit. "Well, that 'nothing' sure looks like a hell of a problem, if it needs a damn needle to fix it."

Her tone was venomous, accusatory, and Tim could hear the unspoken words within the heated statement. He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I relapsed, okay?" he hissed. "And for the record, it's really not your hell of a problem to deal with." With that, he pushed past her and stalked away, heading off to his bedroom. She stood there, motionless, for a moment, letting the shock wash over her only to be swiftly replaced by anger. Fuming, she stormed after him, forcing her way into his room when he tried to shut the door on her.

"What do you mean, you _relapsed_?" she demanded. "You _used_ to be addicted or something?"

Tim collapsed onto his bed, looking exhausted. "Just leave me alone, okay?" he moaned. "I feel terrible."

"I bet you do." Rose sat on the edge of the bed, not far from Tim's hips. She had a strange urge to reach out and put a hand on his leg, but she resisted it. "I still don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Tim breathed out another sigh and closed his eyes. He was so still for the next few minutes that Rose almost thought he'd fallen asleep until he opened his mouth and spoke again. "Did you ever hear about the Clench?"

Rose blinked at him. "No."

Tim propped himself up on elbows that trembled slightly, as if they couldn't hold his weight. "About four or five years ago, the Ebola Gulf A virus—nicknamed the Clench—was released in Gotham City. It's a highly deadly disease, kills the infected in less than forty-eight hours. Five hundred thousand people were killed because of it, and I was…I was almost one of them."

"You caught the Clench?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah, but I obviously got the cure. I was in the last stages when they got it to me." He went quiet for a moment. "Sometimes, I still have nightmares about it. What it felt like, I mean. I still remember that pain." He slowly pushed himself upright, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Bruce warned me that I'd have a risk of relapse, since I got the cure so late. He said the virus was still in my system, somewhat. So, I kept a needle full of the cure in my med pack, just in case it ever happened."

"And it happened this morning."

"I woke up and found blood on my pillow. When I felt my face…" He shook his head. "It was just like I remember it. Blood coming out of my eyes and all that, it was scary."

Rose grimaced. "I didn't need to know that bit, thank you."

"Sorry. Anyway, that was what I was doing in the bathroom when you came up. I had to dose myself fast or risk getting worse than I already was." They sat in silence for a moment or two, neither really sure what to say. Tim was mostly just worried about how Rose was going to take it.

"That's it?" she said, snapping him out of his daze. She sounded like someone who'd just gone to a really great movie that had a horrible ending. "That's why you had to lock yourself up in the bathroom for two hours this morning? You just got _sick_?"

"Rose, it's deadly if untreated."

"So what, I needed to straighten my hair!" She growled, huffed out a breath, and stomped out of the room and down the stairs, hollering the whole way, "Hey, guys, Tim's sick and hogging the bathrooms!"

Tim let his head sink into his hands. So much for talking about it making him feel better.


	15. Driver's Ed

**Here it is, the nightmare you've all been waiting for…driver's education.**

Rose slammed her hands down on the breakfast table. "Can any of you guys teach me how to drive?"

All morning conversation ceased as seven wide-eyed stares were suddenly locked onto her. Not the reaction she'd been hoping to receive. She sank a little farther down into her seat, embarrassed a little. "Please?" she added hopefully.

Cassie licked oatmeal off her spoon thoughtfully, gazing at Rose with something like pity. "You're really brave for asking," she decided at last.

"I didn't know you couldn't drive," Gar commented, earning a hateful, searing glare from the girl in question. He shrank back in fear, putting his hands in the air to signal his surrender. "I didn't mean it like that—I just meant that—well, it's just that—I just thought that—"

"Stop talking," Raven sighed.

Conner and Bart glanced at each other across the table. Both had their licenses—both knew they weren't the only ones, too—but they didn't want to say anything. True, it was Rose, she was their teammate, and she needed help with something. "Titans Together" and all that…but this was _Rose Wilson_, quite possibly the most dangerous girl on the face of the planet excepting Cass Cain, asking to get behind the wheel of a car for the first time. They always figured _somebody_ would have to do it, but they'd been hoping it'd be one of the older heroes, one of the ones who were already getting over the hill, anyway. They, on the other hand, were young and had their whole lives ahead of them, and it just wasn't fair to ask them to risk death by Ravager's driving.

She was apparently angered by the lack of definite answers, so she growled, "Okay, how about this: you guys _will_ teach me to drive or I'll stick my sword up where the sun—"

"Okay," Tim cut her off.

The Titans' jaws went slack simultaneously. "What'd you just say?" Cassie asked in disbelief.

"Okay," Tim repeated, nonchalantly, as if he wasn't bothered by the fact that this was quite probably the last time the Titans would ever see him alive again. "I'll do it. I've had my license for three years; I can teach you."

Bart usually wasn't very protective—of anything. He loaned out T-shirts like he had a never-ending stock of them in his closet, he practically tossed the keys to his car to anyone who wanted them, and he'd give away food, precious, scrumptious food, like it was a penny. But suddenly, hearing Tim volunteer to be Rose's driving instructor, he felt oddly protective of her. It was like the guy was still trying to move in on his woman, after all this time of going from girlfriend to girlfriend. Hadn't he figured out that he had enough women and just needed to let Bart keep this one? He crossed his arms and stated, "I don't think so. She's _my_ girlfriend, and _I'll_ teach her how to drive."

"Need I remind you of the last time you drove my car in San Fran?" Tim inquired dryly. "I distinctly remember hanging out of the passenger seat of an upside-down and barely-functioning Batmobile that _I_ got my ass fried for. I _still_ have bruises from that!"

"What, the ass-frying or the crash?"

"Okay, I've been in a car with _both_ of you while you were driving and I about tore my hair out," Conner remarked. "I happen to be way better than both of you, so I'll teach Rose."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Cassie argued, getting right up into Conner's face. (Tim had been saying that exes shouldn't be around the tower together…) "You drive like you're losing a slow race to a snail! She needs to know how to get where she's going before she's _thirty_, so _I'll_ teach her!"

Rose pounded her fist against the table to gain everyone's attention. "Guys!" she shrieked. A hush fell over the room, accompanied with everyone's eyes once again on her. "How about you _all_ teach me?"

Raven, Kiran, and Gar glanced at each other warily. They weren't totally familiar with the others' driving techniques—weren't sure they really _wanted_ to be—but even _they_ knew that was a bad idea. But, of course, if they said that, they'd be the ones stuck being her driving instructors, and they wanted there to be something left of the team after the day was done. So, Gar settled for quipping, "I'll go start planning funerals. What color do you guys want your caskets to be, black or brown?"

Tim narrowed his eyes. "Neither."

"Oh, you're right. White is so much more you." With that, he headed upstairs, snickering behind the hand that had been quickly clamped over his mouth.

Tim shook his head. "Don't listen to him, Rose. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

Of course, that was what he said. What he was thinking was something like: _Aw, hell, we're all going to die._

Not more than half an hour later, the five Titans were cramming themselves into Tim's car ("antique", he called it, which everyone else took to mean "ugly") and trying not to think about the imminent danger that would be on the road. Conner sat in the driver's seat with Rose beside him in the passenger's, and she looked skeptical. "I thought you were supposed to be teaching me to drive," she reminded him.

"I will," he assured her. "First, though, we need to start out with some demonstrations. You need to see how to drive correctly before you can learn."

The others rolled their eyes, but they played along. Conner stuck the key into the ignition and started the car, rolling out of the tower's garage at about a half mile per hour. The tires moved so slowly over the bridge to the mainland that they didn't even stir the water that concealed it. When they finally hit the actual street, Conner made sure to drive carefully beneath the speed limit. Everybody was pretty sure they were supposed to be headed to the library…they couldn't be totally certain, since they were used to seeing the route in much faster time than what they were making. Other cars on the road were flying past them like they were sitting still. Bart called up to the front seat, "Hey, I think an old lady in a station wagon just passed us."

"I'm just driving carefully," Conner responded defensively. "I don't want to get in a wreck."

"Oh, to hell with it," Cassie snapped, leaning forward. "Pull over. I'm driving."

He pulled into the nearest available parking space and switched places with her. She clicked her seatbelt into place and pulled out into traffic. She, unlike her ex, was perfectly comfortable going five miles over the speed limit, but she was sorely displeased with anyone who wasn't. They somehow found themselves in the center of a massive traffic jam, stuck behind a minivan that was so packed full of kids that it couldn't move. Or, at least, that was the joking explanation Tim had offered for the situation. Cassie was not amused in the least, and she pulled up so close behind the lady that their front tag was touching her bumper. She laid into the horn like it was going out of style, honking up a storm and getting a few weird looks from the drivers around them. "Oh, come _on_, lady!" Cassie shrieked. "You're not _that_ big! _Move it!_" Before they all knew it, both of her middle fingers were proudly extended toward the windshield, caught in the sunlight, and no doubt able to be seen from the rearview mirror of the minivan. Rose buried her face in her hands.

"Please don't do that," she begged. "I don't want to be embarrassed."

"Well, these damn soccer moms always gripe about being late to games, but they wouldn't _be_ late if they'd _speed_ their asses _up_! _Zeus!_"

"How about I take the next round once we get out of this traffic?" Tim suggested gently.

"Please do," Rose said quickly.

Unfortunately, it was another twenty-eight minutes of horn-honking, off-flipping, and Cassie's road rage before Tim could take the wheel. The first thing he did after buckling his seatbelt was advising the others to do the same. Then, he took off into the street, weaving in and out of moving traffic and speeding down the street at seventy-seven miles per hour. He cut a hairpin turn into the public library's parking lot, skidding a one-eighty into an empty parking space. He whooped in delight. "See? I got us there in one piece," he pointed out gleefully.

Rose started checking the mirrors for approaching cop cars, but couldn't see any, to her amazement. "Define 'one piece,'" Cassie said, smoothing down her now-wild hair.

Conner and Bart were tightly gripping the handles in the backseat, teeth clenched and eyes bulging in fear. "W-Well," Conner stammered. "I-if this whole 'Wayne Enterprises' thing doesn't work out, you've got a promising career as a Hollywood stunt driver."

Tim glared at them through the rearview mirror, but shrugged off the comment. "I hate to say this," he told them, "but…Bart, it's your turn."

The speedster changed places with the teen vigilante as fast as possible. Rose caught his hand as he was buckling in. "You're not a bad driver, are you?" she demanded, looking frightened.

He patted her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, dearest," he replied. "I promise you I'll teach you well."

Sure enough, they drove the speed limit down the road the whole way, they passed people when it was necessary, and they parked perfectly in front of a McDonald's. Tim was in awe. "What happened to you that made you a good driver?"

Bart shrugged. "I've practiced a lot with Wally."

"Poor guy," Conner muttered.

"So…can you teach me to drive like that?" Rose asked hopefully.

"Sure thing," Bart agreed. "How hard can it be?"

**Two weeks later…**

The nose of Tim's antique car smashed through the door of the garage at Titans Tower. Bart and Rose emerged from the front seat, coughing to expel the white, powdery dust from their lungs. "Well, so your parking needs a little work," Bart began, but he cut himself off when he saw Tim sitting not far from them, right next to his Ducati, a rag clutched in his fist and a glare on his face. Bart swallowed hard. "Um, Tim, I can explain this…"


	16. iPod

Nobody knew what possessed Tim to make him fall asleep on the couch at Titans Tower that weekend. It was a proven fact that the Titans were all notoriously vicious pranksters in their own, vastly different ways, and falling asleep in anyplace other than your room meant you put yourself at risk of falling victim to a prank. Tim had already experienced that once for himself (and burned the cape that proved it), yet he took the risk anyway.

He was nestled snugly in a corner of the couch, wrapped in about five warm blankets with his head leaning against the armrest. He had just spent a long week dealing with Viktor Mikalek and Anarky, on top of the usual Gotham thugs and such, and all of that had come with the lovely addition of little less than fourteen hours' sleep for the entire five days he'd spent in his hometown. So, he had come to Titans Tower with his jet on autopilot and had stumbled out upon landing, which was when Conner had suggested he get some sleep before attempting to do any real leading, otherwise the team would be screwed. Of course, he knew what would happen to his best friend if he took his advice. He was planning to get in on it, too.

Strangely enough, it was Cassie who came down first to pull her part of the prank. But when she saw how peaceful he looked, the sweet innocence of his expression, she just couldn't bring herself to take Crayola to his face the way she'd planned.

Then, she saw the iPod.

The earbuds were stuck into Tim's ears, and the little device sat in his lap, apparently having been in use before he'd fallen asleep. Cassie crept over and peered at it, discerning that it was still on, and then, eagerly, she tugged the earbuds out of his ears and put them into her own, listening for a little bit. When she realized she'd been bobbing her head and shaking her hips in time to the music for ten minutes, she embarrassedly dropped the earbuds back onto Tim's lap and quickly moved upstairs again.

Conner came down next, expecting to find Tim's face covered in brightly-colored marker and being sorely disappointed. He frowned, already mentally preparing the tirade he'd give Cassie later about chickening out on a naptime prank, but then he, too, spotted the iPod. He couldn't resist; he _had_ to have a quick listen. He picked up the earbuds off Tim's lap and placed them in his ears…then grimaced and dropped them again, heading back upstairs with a shaking head and a bad attitude.

Bart passed him on the way, wondering what his problem was. Granted, _everybody_ around the tower seemed to have _some_ sort of issue twenty-four-seven, but it wasn't really normal for Superboy to be looking so…exasperated or something? It was hard to place what his friend was feeling, so Bart just continued down the stairwell to prank his other friend. Needless to say, he was also spellbound by the opportunity of the still-activated iPod Tim happened to have on his person. He stuck the earbuds in and listened for a moment before utter shock flashed over his face. He reached down and shook Tim until he woke up. Tim straightened, rubbing his eyes and sighing. "Bart?" he mumbled sleepily. "What the hell…?"

"Dude," Bart cried, "I didn't know you liked Katy Perry!"

**I had to do it. Wouldn't it be something if Tim really **_**was**_** into dance-pop music like that?**


	17. Question Game

The Teen Titans would gladly beat up anybody who dared to call sleepovers a girl thing or a pansy thing. Hell, the team itself was practically one massive weekend-long sleepover, and when they actually _called_ a sleepover at Titans Tower, it was a cause for celebration among the members.

That particular Saturday was no exception. Cassie's birthday had been the previous Thursday, and she'd decided it'd be cool to have a real sleepover with her best friends and Rose. They'd made popcorn and watched movies, cranked their music as loud as it'd go and danced, and had the most epic pillow fight in the history of epic pillow fights. They were now in the process of cleaning up from said epic pillow fight, when Bart suggested, as he absentmindedly stuffed cotton back into a pillow off the couch, "We should tell stories."

Tim glanced up at him from amid a snowdrift of pillow innards. "What do you mean, like, hang-out-around-the-campfire-trying-to-scare-each-other stories or…spill-your-darkest-secrets kind of stories?" he asked, almost shuddering when he voiced the last option. Bart waggled his eyebrows at his friend, and Tim looked away quickly. "I'm sorry, but there are certain things out of my life you don't need to hear."

"I second that notion," Conner chimed in.

Bart shrugged. "Okay, fine. We'll play the Question Game."

The Titans froze. In the history of the team, no one had devised a better form of torture—except maybe playing poker against Kiran or Tim—than Bart's Question Game. The only way to skip out on a game was to renounce membership, and the questions were limited to…well, nothing, really. It was a surefire way to get your teammates to talk about particularly gross, embarrassing, and/or emotionally scarring experiences, and Bart loved to watch everyone's faces when they played.

Cassie sighed. "I'll go first," she volunteered.

Bart brightened at that. "Okay, pick a Titan."

Cassie looked at Gar. "I pick Beast Boy."

"Ask a question."

"Out of all the girlfriends you've ever had, who could you see yourself marrying?"

Gar cackled and threw an arm around a giggling Raven's shoulders. "That's easy," he said. "I'd marry Raven hands-down."

"Okay, Gar, your turn," Bart announced. "Pick a Titan."

"Superboy."

"Ask a question."

"If you could be any other hero for one day, who would you be?"

Conner rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Um…Wonder Woman…" Cassie glared. He put up both hands defensively. "What? I just want to see what it's like to be so hot!"

"Don't hit on my mentor," Cassie growled.

"I'm not hitting on her; I'm just—stating a fact!"

"Conner, pick a Titan."

"Wonder Girl."

"Ask a question."

"If you could get back together with me or Tim, who would you pick and why?"

Tim's jaw dropped. Cassie looked mortified, but she stammered, "U-uh…I-I'd pick…you, because…well…I guess because I dated you longer? I don't know!" Tim was shaking his head behind Conner, who appeared to be enjoying his little triumph. "No offense, Tim. I mean, you're a great guy and all, but you've got, like, a million girls already."

"And he doesn't?" Tim countered.

"Cassie, pick a Titan," Bart interrupted.

"Solstice."

"Ask a question."

"Would you kiss one of the guys if you could, and who would it be if the answer's yes?"

Kiran grinned sheepishly. "Yes, and I'd kiss Gar."

Raven raised her eyebrows. Gar flexed. And Rose burst out laughing.

"Pick a Titan."

"Ravager." Rose's laughter stopped cold.

"Ask a question."

"Is it true that you were after Tim for a time?"

Rose threw her hands up in the air. "Why does everybody always ask this? _Yes_, I used to pine for the Boy Wonder, _big frickin' whoop_! He was _so_ much hotter a year ago, okay? Let's drop it now!"

"Pick a Titan."

"Raven."

"Ask a question."

"Why'd you start dating Beast Boy?"

Gar looked like he was trying to hide—or at the very least cover up his shock. Raven contemplated the question for a moment before shrugging and admitting, "He's one of my oldest friends. I figured that by now we'd had enough time to figure out just how much we loved each other. Besides, I got tired of waiting around for him to make his move." The others laughed.

"Pick a Titan."

"Kid Flash."

Bart paled. "Ask a question."

"How long were you the shortest one in the group?"

Bart scratched his head, probably just to buy some time, and then snapped his fingers. "Five years," he announced. Then he slumped onto the nearest piece of furniture. "Oh, man, I really _am _a midget!"

"It's okay, Bart," Cassie assured him. "We all love you just the same."

Bart turned his gaze to Tim, who almost cringed—almost. "I pick Red Robin. And my question is…were you seriously, truly, honest-to-goodness drunk the night you crashed the Batmobile into Wayne Manor?"

Tim's face went serious in an instant. "I thought we agreed we'd never speak of that again."


	18. Statues

**Inspired by Scott Lobdell's opinion of the Hall of Fallen Titans…**

Cassie regretted telling Tim that he could come by her room whenever he wanted to. If he didn't catch her trying to pull a Michael Jackson to Katy Perry, he caught her making out with Conner or discussing girl things with Raven…which was just embarrassing. Usually, whenever he got her at a bad time, his whole face would turn as red as his uniform, he'd stammer some lame excuse about needing to borrow a book, and quickly exit again. But that day, he just barged right into her room, looking more perturbed than she'd ever seen him. Never mind that she was standing in front of the mirror trying to figure out how to hem her new dress. Never mind that she had her iPod blaring on its speakers so loud she couldn't have heard a tank rolling through the tower. He just threw her door open and strode right up to her.

"Tim!" Cassie cried, shocked. She jumped a bit, pushing the pin a little too far through the dress and into her thigh. She gritted her teeth and hissed a bit. "Okay, I'm sorry, but this is kind of a private thing for me. You don't need to see how short my dress is going to be!"

He paid her no heed, none whatsoever. "I know I'm the one who was originally in favor of this idea," he told her, "but now, I'm starting to think it's just friggin' creepy."

"What is?"

Tim motioned for her to follow him and started out the door. Cassie wondered, briefly, if she should pull the pins out of her dress on the way…but she didn't want to get caught without them in case he did something that would warrant a super-strong pin-jab to a soft spot (preferably one difficult to reach with antiseptic). Shrugging, she trotted after him, flying down what felt like every flight of stairs in the whole tower until they reached the basement.

She almost wondered if they'd stop at the remnants of Tim's old lab, with its cloning tanks and its high-tech machinery—in which case she would tell him that, yes, it _was_ friggin' creepy that he'd tried to clone his best friend back—but they kept on going right past it all. She was starting to question her friend's sanity when he led her to the deepest, darkest corner of Titans Tower, gestured at his find helplessly, and said, "_This_ had to be the worst idea I ever dreamed up."

Cassie nodded her agreement. Statues of the entire team, even Kiran, were lined up against the far wall, ready for use. Conner and Bart's statues both looked suspiciously golden, and Cassie had to wonder if Tim had ever really gotten rid of those old things at all or if he'd just kept them as a "just in case" thing. "Don't take offense to this, Tim," she started carefully, "but…what's all this for?"

"The Hall of Fallen Titans," Tim answered, folding his arms. "I mean, none of us are going to live forever, and with the death rate that this team's had in the past, it's just a matter of time."

"So, you had big-ass statues of all of us made. Why in the hell was that a good idea, might I ask?"

Tim shrugged. "I guess I thought it'd save on expenses or something? I don't know. But I'm starting to think it's a little bit on the insanely paranoid side."

"Oh, Tim, you've got something on your cowl."

"I do?"

"Yeah, here—let me get it."

Never had Cassie been able to pride herself so much on making a boy squeal more than right then.

Later, in the medical bay, as Gar slapped Band-Aids on Tim's punctured cheeks, he commented, "Well, you have to admit…she came prepared."


	19. Potty Break

The last time Conner checked, the tower had seven bathrooms, because of the obvious need for more than one lavatory on a team full of teenagers (at least half of which were almost always girls). However, this didn't do a whole lot of good when you had an eight-member team and _everybody_ had to use the bathroom.

Conner was starting to think it was a little suspicious that they all had to go at the exact same time, but the distinct feeling of a day's worth of waste buildup inside of him was really blotting out all coherent thought. Apparently, the invulnerability of a Kryptonian body extended to even the internal organs, but after holding it for eighteen hours, Conner felt like his indestructible bladder was about to burst. He pounded on the bathroom door for what felt like the thousandth time and hollered through it, "Bart! Hurry it the hell _up_, man! I'm _dying_ out here!"

"I'm sorry, Conner," Bart called back. "It's just that I've been holding it _all day_!"

"So have I, dude!"

"I'm almost done!"

Conner could almost feel his bladder beginning to slowly tear at its seams. (Did his bladder even _have_ seams?) He bounced up and down a little on his toes, wringing his hands, doing anything he could to keep himself from thinking about it. Finally, he decided the best distraction was to talk to Bart, who'd probably have his mind on football or Cassie or Lori or _something_ else within two minutes. "Don't you think it's a little bit weird that we're all, like, hanging all over the toilet at the same time?" he asked.

"Oh, u-um—yeah, yeah, I do," Bart agreed.

The stammer in his voice was enough to convince Conner that something was up. He leaned in toward the door suspiciously, wondering what was on Bart's mind and wishing that Kryptonians could read minds so he could find out. "I mean, we haven't really done anything different lately in our respective routines. Well, other than the fact that we all had that wild berry punch last night—you made that, didn't you?"

"Yeah…uh…a-about that…"

Conner narrowed his eyes. "Bart."

"It wasn't like I meant for anything to happen…"

"Bart."

"I was just trying to help out, honest…"

"Bart, if you're hiding something, you better tell me right now before I'm forced to come in and beat it out of you. And we're both guys, so don't think it'll bother me or anything."

Bart was silent for a moment before groaning and admitting, "Okay, okay, fine, it's my fault! It was just that everybody's so _uptight_ around here! I mean, Cassie and Rose are both going through rough patches with their mothers, Gar and Raven have serious hormonal tension, you and Kiran are being epic fails at pushing through your first fight, and Tim—well, and Tim is just Tim. It's gotten to the point where I can see it in everyone's bodies; everybody's so edgy that it, like, knots up their muscles and gross crap like that. So, I slipped a little bit of a laxative into the punch last night to make everybody relax a little bit, but now we're all…you know. I didn't mean for this to happen, I swear!"

Conner's eyes went wide. "Bart, you do realize that a laxative is a bowel stimulant, right?"

"It's what now?"

"A bowel stimulant, dumbass, it means it promotes going to the bathroom regularly."

Bart paused, apparently taking in the information. "Oh, so it doesn't relax your muscles?"

"No."

"They really need to rename those things to make it less confusing."

Conner glared, feeling the heat vision begin to rise up behind his eyes. "I'm gonna kick your ass so hard once this is done."

The bathroom door was open in an instant as a rush of cool air tore past Conner's left side. _"You'llhavetocatchmefirst!"_


	20. Tessa

"_Okay, who stole my brand-new jeans?"_

Tim didn't flinch at Cassie's outraged cry. He'd learned that reacting every time one of the girls freaked out was kind of like crying over spilled milk; it was useless, and it got them nowhere. (Not to mention that it was usually over something stupid, like pilfered denim.) Cassie stormed into the dining room and straight over to Tim, forcing his coffee cup down from his lips. "You're a girl, I'm a guy, and your jeans don't fit me," he reminded her. "I am _not_ your culprit."

"You think I give a damn?" Cassie retorted. "You're the resident World's Greatest Detective Number Two, so _you're_ going to help me track them down."

Tim gave her a look. "Cassie, they're jeans, not a person, not a dog. They didn't just get up and walk away. It's not like I have footprints to follow or anything."

Cassie fisted a hand in his cape and dragged him, rather unceremoniously, out of his chair, holding him up so that his feet dangled off the floor. "I—don't—care. You _will_ find my jeans, and you _will_ find them _today_, or I will see to it that surgery cannot remove your staff from the inner part of your—"

"Ahem."

They both turned their heads to see…well, frankly, a stranger standing in front of them. She reached up with a pale, slender hand to brush raven bangs from her gray eyes and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Her athletic figure was concealed by a pair of leather boots, Cassie's previously-missing jeans, and a T-shirt that Tim was pretty certain belonged to Bart. The girl hugged her arms close to her torso and stated, in a voice thickly accented with a Gotham City twang, "I had to find _something_ to wear, and it was either this or my costume, which I'd probably overheat in, judging by this place's spotty air conditioning."

Cassie dropped Tim onto the floor, resolutely ignoring the hard thud of his butt hitting the linoleum. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?" she demanded.

The girl strode forward and stuck out a hand. "Red Robin," she introduced herself, "at your service."

Tim popped up in between them, putting out both hands to separate the girls and give himself a little more space. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he interrupted. "_You_ can't be Red Robin. _I'm_ Red Robin."

"We're both Red Robin."

"No, we're not. You're obviously a very sloppily-engineered fake. I mean, come on, any dumbass with a gram of common sense knows I'm male, whereas you are…" He trailed off, gesturing at her topmost feminine curves and trying not to stare. "You are very obviously not. Plus, if you were _really_ Red Robin, you'd be Bat-trained, and Bat-trained people ignore heat and cold. I could go on, but I won't, because we'd be here for twenty minutes if I did. So, now that that's out of the way, who the hell are you—really?"

The girl rolled her eyes and lifted a hand, splaying the fingers to examine her nails. "Wow, somebody's uninformed. I know you're gonna have a hard time accepting this, Mr. Anal-Man-of-the-Year, but I really am Red Robin. I'm from another Earth; I'm just here on vacation. And people call me Tessa, just in case you're wondering that, too—which you are. I can tell by the way you carry yourselves."

Cassie blinked a few times, glancing back and forth between Tim and Tessa. "Wait…Tessa _Drake_?" she confirmed.

Tessa nodded.

"This is _Tim_ Drake right here in front of you." She paused. "I think you guys might be…oh, Zeus, you _are_!" She burst out laughing, slapping her knees. "Oh, my gods, you guys are counterparts!"

Tim's jaw dropped. "We are _not_ counterparts!"

Tessa cocked her head and looked him over with a newfound interest. "Huh…funny, I always thought that, as a guy, I'd be taller. What are you, like, five-seven?"

"Five-nine-and-a-half, thank you very much!"

"Five-ten, you lose!"

Tim looked like he wanted to tear his own hair out, or at the very least get swallowed up whole by the floor. "Look, do I have to reiterate this to you? Girl,"—he pointed at Tessa—"guy,"—he pointed at himself—"not counterparts!"

"Unless you're from the _gender-reversed_ Earth," Cassie pointed out. "They say there really is one of those. It's, like, number eleven or something. God, some World's Greatest Detective Number Two you are."

Tim stuck his tongue out at her before turning back to Tessa. "You get here via Mother Box?"

Tessa nodded. "Yeah, but it's a frickin' _suck-ish_ way to travel. I'm _still_ nauseous."

"See, there you go, even more proof that we are not connected in any way whatsoever. I don't talk like Harley Quinn."

"If you were a girl, you would."

"I would not!"

"You know," Tessa interjected, "if this is a bad time, I wouldn't mind just, like, moving to a hotel or something."

Tim was opening his mouth to tell her that was a good idea when Cassie took the option out of his hands. "Oh, no, you won't. We could use more girls around this tower. Plus, you can't leave until we show you to the other Titans. I'm sure that, as long as you're here, we can really use you." Tessa frowned. "Don't think like Tim does. Please. This team is perverted enough without two like minds in the same gutter."

Tessa grinned and turned to slink away. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

Tim glared at Cassie. "I cannot believe you just did that."

She shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

Four hours later, the tower was full of more-or-less excited Teen Titans vying to see the "new girl" up close. Tim hung back and let Cassie take care of it, mainly because he was still trying to decide whether or not to trust Tessa. The girl in question was currently standing in the living room in full "Red Robin" regalia, letting the others admire her and bask in her glory. Her costume, while admittedly practical, was an insult to the Bat-family name. Her so-called cowl was akin to Kid Flash's, her utility belt was cut into bands on her legs that couldn't have held more than a few surprises, and her cape was both hooded _and_ short. The shield strapped to her left arm bore the Red Robin insignia and looked like something pulled from a Hollywood film. Her long-sleeved red leotard was cut up the sides just enough that at least an inch of her belly, sides, and back was visible above the waistline of her tight leather pants. Her unshielded arm was concealed by a shoulder plate, a forearm guard, and something like modified brass knuckles, her gloves were too short for scallops, and bright red boots? Who in their right mind wore bright red boots in the real world? Tim shook his head. How disgraceful.

"So, wait, is this, like Kevlar or something?" Gar asked, reaching out to rub Tessa's cape with a thumb and forefinger.

Immediately, her elbow had slammed itself into his gut, knocking him to the floor. "Sorry," she apologized without much remorse. "It's instinct. You alright down there?" Gar nodded, but he looked kind of sick. "Don't touch the cape," Tessa added.

"Thanks for the warning," Gar grumbled.

"How much do you know? Do you know as much as Tim? Can you beat Tim in a fight? Can I watch?" Bart inquired hopefully, clasping his hands and giving her the biggest smile he could muster. She grimaced at him for a moment before walking over to ruffle his auburn hair, prompting a giggle.

"I've got a 224 IQ and a hacker's hand like you wouldn't believe," she bragged. Then she grinned up at Tim. "And I'll let you watch me take down your pal over there for free."

Tim just glared.

"You're staying for a while, then, I guess," Conner chimed in, sitting on the armrest of the couch.

Tessa shrugged. "I might, I might not. It all depends. This is supposed to be a vacation, but…I don't know. I'm not feeling the relaxation vibe. A few days here might not be such a bad idea, but I'll have to go ASAP. I'm expected back on my Earth pretty soon to deal with some…mommy issues."

Nobody asked. Nobody really wanted to know.

A few hours later, the Titans were hanging out in the media room, watching Bart stomp Gar at Wii yet again, when Tessa burst into the room in a panic. "My Mother Box crashed!"

Tim felt his face fall. "What?"

"My Mother Box, it…I was just up there testing it out, seeing if it was still good to go, I pressed a button, and then it just—crashed!" She flopped down onto the couch, groaning in despair.

The Titans glanced at each other, and then back at her. "You can still _use_ it, though, right?" Rose asked.

Tessa shook her head. "Until I figure out what's wrong, I can't do anything with it. No Boom Tubes, no teleportation, no healing wounds…nada. And the worst part is it could be any number of problems. It might be broken, it might be sick, it might have a few crossed wires, or it might just be being obstinate with me. I hate to ask you this, but…can I stay a little longer than a few days? Just till I have this straightened out?"

Tim was about to tell her that they could take her to somebody to get it fixed and get her out of there on her original schedule, but the other Titans all soundly agreed with the decision to let her stay. Were they insane? This girl was…was…oh, whatever.

The first few days, as everyone was warming up to her, weren't so bad. Tessa hung out with Cassie, managed to get along with Rose, learned a little bit of piano from Raven, and even managed to hold her own in a game of poker with Kiran. She wasn't totally inept in the kitchen, she adored video games, and she was actually a pretty good asset to the team. But soon, a few days turned into a week, which turned into two, which turned into three, and the novelty of Tim's female counterpart was starting to wear off. By the third Saturday, Tim was fed up with her. He burst into Bart's room, interrupting a riveting game of Black Ops to declare, "I can't _stand_ her!"

"You can't stand who?" Conner asked.

"Tessa," Tim cried. "She's—she's—she's—"

"Like you, but female?" Bart supplied.

Tim ignored the dig and started listing off his complaints on his fingers. "She's bossy, she's rude, she's a know-it-all, she constantly corrects me on _everything_, she never stops talking about Batwoman or Nightwing, she can't get over her stupidly childish grudge against Robin, she's an angst bucket, she lies to get her way, she can't stay out of trouble to save her life, quite literally, she has trust issues, she uses her manufactured confidence to cover up her insecurities, she sneaks around behind everyone's backs, she's loud, she's obnoxious, she thinks she's being charming when she's really just being annoying, she doesn't let her teammates into the loop about _anything_, and she leads like a dictator!"

At that moment, Tessa opened the door and brushed past him, announcing, "Bart, I need to borrow a shirt, thank you." With that, she leaned down, swept up a shirt off the floor, and walked back out, shutting the door behind her.

Tim watched her go before turning back to his friends. "It doesn't even bother you that she takes your stuff without asking?" he demanded.

"No, because you do the same thing," Bart replied nonchalantly.

"This only proves my suspicion that she is _not_ who she says she is. There is _no way_ I'm like that all the time."

The other boys had long since resumed their game. Conner distractedly added, "Right, Tim, because you're a perfect child."

"Yes, I am." Tim paused. "And that's another thing: she's arrogant."

"So…what do want us to do about it?"

"We're gonna find her Mother Box, we're gonna fix it, and then we're gonna _use it_ to send her _back_, gift-wrapped, and bubble-wrapped, with a giant bow on her head, and a note that says, 'Keep your devil woman on _your_ Earth, damn it!'"

Conner and Bart were unmoved by Tim's heated statement. "Don't you think this is a little out of control, Tim?" Bart asked.

"No, I don't!" Tim exclaimed. "She's a pain in the ass!"

It was evident, however, that they weren't listening to him and didn't agree with his plan, so he eventually just rolled his eyes and headed back to his room, making himself a mental note to teach his friends when it was best to just smile and nod and go along with it. He twisted the knob, opened the door…

And he was met with the sight of Tessa making herself at home within. She was lying on his bed, looking through his books and magazines, listening to his music on his iPod, and, worst—and weirdest—of all, wearing his leather pants and his armored boots. "Tessa!" he shouted. "What the hell are you doing in here? This is _my_ room!"

She stood up with a huge smile on her face and bounded over to him excitedly. "Check it out!" she squealed. "I don't know if it's just that I'm big for a girl or you're small for a guy, but these things fit me like a glove! And technically, handsome, it's _our_ room." She poked his nose and went to lie back down.

Tim was in shock. "Tessa, I don't know if you're aware of this, but this classifies as an invasion of my privacy."

"Oh, c'mon, live a little." She settled back down on the bed and opened up an issue of _People_. "Besides, it's not like I won't know what's in here. We are the same person, you know."

Tim wanted desperately to yell at her, to scold her, to say something…really, he wanted to do anything other than just stand there looking like a dumbfounded idiot, so he let out a growl of frustration and left the room.

Needless to say, he slept on the couch that night.

He awoke the next morning to Tessa's elated shrieks. _"You fixed it, you fixed it!" _She dashed down the stairs in full costume, her face twisted into an expression of pure joy. She rushed right over to Tim, practically threw herself on top of him, and gave him the biggest hug he'd ever received in his entire life. "I thought I broke it, but it was just in a funk, and when you were yelling at me yesterday, it snapped out of it and now it'll take me someplace else in the Multiverse! Thank you so much!" The other Titans had gathered in the living room to see what was going on and, therefore, were present to watch Tessa salute them all, press a button on her Mother Box, and disappear into a Boom Tube.

Cassie sighed. "I'm gonna miss her," she said sadly.

"Yeah, me too," Rose agreed. "She was so much more fun than Red."

"She was kind of hot, too," Gar admitted, earning an elbow in his ribs from Raven.

Tim, however, was quite frankly _not_ upset by her leaving. He got off the couch, sank to his knees on the floor, and bellowed, "_Yes!_ I'm _free_! God really _does_ work miracles!"

From upstairs sounded a loud boom, like something exploding, and then a familiar voice called down, "Um…guys…?"


	21. Talking

**Postponing the beach day chapter to do this one…it's for those who wanna know what the Titans would think of our real world. Thanks to newsiesgirllaces for the idea!**

_CRASH!_

"Oh, shit! Tim's _so_ gonna—oh. Hey. I'm Kid Flash. Who are you people? And—wait a second. How'd you get into Titans Tower? This place is supposed to be secure. Hmmm…oh, well. I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a few extra people around here. What're your names? Mine's Bartholomew Allen II, but I hate saying all that, so people call me Bart. Don't tell anybody else that I said this, but I'm actually the coolest one at the Tower. I have the coolest back story, I have the awesomest powers, and I'm more famous than everybody else, all because of my family.

"Tim and Conner and Cassie all have boring origins. I mean, so what if Tim figured out who Batman and Robin were when he was nine? Who cares that Cassie stole ancient Greek artifacts so she could help Wonder Woman? And a half-human, half-Kryptonian clone—can we say _'cliché'_? _I'm_ from the future, _and_ I'm the grandson of Barry Allen, a.k.a. the Flash, a.k.a. the World's Awesomest Superhero, therefore I am the awesomest Teen Titan!

"So, what're things like where you come from? Any of you people have superpowers? You _don't_? That's _nuts_! Wait…are you, like, from Earth-Prime or whatever? I hear people there don't have powers.

"They say this is called 'New Earth'. You guys call it the DCU, huh? Hmm, I like it. It's got a nice ring to it. DCU, DCU, DCU…anyway, living here's not all it's cracked up to be. I mean, it totally _sucks_ how super-screwy our superhero lives are. And all the drama tends to leak over into our _civilian_ lives, too, so it's like we can't get away from all the stupid angst. And everybody is constantly changing all the time for no reason at all, or worse, some stupid reason. And it's like we all get a shot at dying and coming back to life. Though, poor Tim doesn't have many of those. He's never actually died, but a whole bunch of people he knew did, and he's only gotten a few of them back.

"Stephanie died too? No way! Aw, you guys missed me when I was dead? That's so sweet!

"But, seriously, it's like there's some kind of evil force out there running our lives and making every decision for us. It's like we don't really have any real control, but don't tell any of the Bats, because they'll positively _freak out_ because they _live_ to be in control of their lives and—hey, can you, like, tell when everything's going to change? You can? That's awesome!"

"Bart, what the hell are you doing? And who are all these people?"

"Oh, hey, Tim, this is our FanFiction fan-base. They say they love the Teen Titans. They missed me when I died and they know when everything's going to change around us and they think we're all cool…and that you're gay."

"You think I'm _gay_? What the—"

"Yeah, they said the guy that's in charge of our lives next month was gonna make you asexual."

"What the—what in the—but I—I'm not—"

"But, no worries; that was a fake article, so you can be in love with Cassie or one of the new kids or whoever you want to be, because everybody knows you get all the girls 'cause you're a stud. I mean, unless you really _are_ gay, because then you can have Conner and make Cassie stop whining about him being a bum."

"…Who did you say these people are again?"

"I told you; they're our fan-base! They read our comic books."

"We don't write comic books."

"No, stupid, we're _in_ a comic book! Actually, you're in quite a few. You're pretty popular."

"…Right, sure we are. So, why do you guys think I'm gay? Oh, so suddenly it's a crime to be close to your best friend? No, no, I don't have anything against gay people—I know a few, and they're all real nice, but I'm not one of them. Well, I take that back, about them all being real nice, because Batwoman...isn't, not to me, anyway. But she's technically a lesbian, but I guess that counts. But, anyway, why me? Haven't I been tortured enough? Why are you _here_, anyway? It's not like we're taking many new members right now. This place is crowded enough."

"Oh, they're not here to join the team. They're just here to read. They don't have any powers, you know that? Isn't that weird?"

"No."

"What?"

"My entire _family_ is without powers. Most people in the _world_ are without powers. It's not as strange as you think."

"But they're from a different planet!"

"That's what they said. How do you know it's true?"

"Because they weren't behind the wall before I broke it!"

"…"

"Oops."

"Bart…"

"It wasn't like I meant to do it. It was an accident, I swear, just like the laxative in the punch!"

"So _that_ was what you put in there that night!"

"Guys, what's all the yelling about? Oh, um…hi. Who are they?"

"They're the people from behind the fourth wall!"

"You broke the wall, didn't you?"

"It was accident! Hey, what do you guys mean, 'we're not supposed to do that'? It's exclusively for Marvel? Who's Marvel? It's a what?"

"Rival publisher, huh? Labeled as better than ours? Why, because their characters are allowed to break the fourth wall? That's stupid. Tim _dated_ a Marvel girl once? Tim! How _could_ you?"

"Hey, hey, hey, don't get mad at me! In my defense, she was probably really hot or at least my age. Besides, I don't even remember her. So there."

"Wow, you all do wonders for a guy with a headache and super-hearing. Dwellers of the land behind the fourth wall, right? Good to meet you! Since you're making all my friends scream…"

"Conner, they think we're gay for each other. You and me, gay for each other…how crazy is that?"

"Um…"

"Don't say it. Don't even go there."

"Well, I can see their line of thinking. I mean, you do seem awful…well…I'm just gonna stop talking."

"There's a Kryptonite ring in my belt with your name on it, S-Boy. Just remember that."

"Hey, guys, listen to your fans! God! We're getting rebooted next month, huh? Cool! And Tim gets wings and doesn't look stupid anymore? Cool!"

"What's wrong with the way I look?"

"Uh…"

"No, I want to hear this. What's wrong with the way I look?"

"Um…well, uh…thanks for following the story, guys, and stay tuned later! I've got to go! Bye!"


	22. Beach Day

It was actually kind of humorous—to Kiran, at least—that the Teen Titans lived on an island and yet never went to the beach. The tower was loaded down with beach towels, swimsuits of every size, and beach gear, but it all smelled…incriminatingly new, as if it had just been bought. (Of course, the fact that she found it all in a storage closet probably had something to do with it.)

When she asked the others why they never went to the beach, they just kind of glanced at one another and fumbled for an answer. Tim rubbed at the back of his neck and stammered, "O-oh, um, w-well…we're kind of busy at the tower, so we usually don't have time for that." Then, Kiran took notice of the Titans' generally pale skin, the pallid hue that seemed to infect all of them, and placed her hands on her hips, glaring.

"You've never been to the beach, have you?" she accused.

Cassie scoffed. "Of _course_, we've been to the beach," she said firmly, "on missions."

Kiran rolled her eyes. "I know _that_. But have you ever been to the beach for a day of fun?"

The Titans were silent.

"I knew it!" Kiran crowed. "Go find yourselves some swimsuits; we're having a beach day!"

Fifty minutes later, she was still waiting at the doorway, listening to arguments being waged upstairs.

"Conner, I _said_ I wanted the _red_ pair!"

"Too bad, Timmy-boy, it's not _my_ fault you're slow!"

"Step the hell away from that thing or I _will _hurt you."

"Such language…"

"_Conner, give me the goddamn swim trunks!"_

"Conner, will you just give them back to him? I'd prefer to _not_ have a headache today."

Kiran stomped up the stairs to find the boys standing in the hallway, clad in nothing but their boxers, yanking on a pair of red swim trunks like a tug-of-war rope. Cassie and Bart were beside them, already wearing their swimming suits. Conner and Tim stopped when they heard Kiran clear her throat, and then their faces flushed so bright red that they almost looked like black-haired, blue-eyed tomatoes…both of them. "I can settle this," Kiran announced, pounding over. She pulled the swim trunks from their grasps and thrust them at Tim's chest. "You wear the red pair." She turned to Conner. "You wear the blue pair." She pointed at another pair of trunks that had been discarded and was now lying on the floor in a wad of sleek blue fabric. "Are we clear?"

The boys nodded meekly and retreated to their rooms. Kiran shook her head and returned back downstairs. This time, she was actually met by her teammates, and they loaded up into the biggest vehicle they could find in the garage and headed off to the beach.

Getting out proved to be not entirely dissimilar to a clown car at the circus, with all of them trooping out of what, now that they took a second look, was a pretty tiny vehicle. Kiran strode onto the sand, her towel tucked under her arm and a tote bag full of sunscreen, sunglasses, a big white volleyball, and a couple of mystery novels slung over the opposite shoulder. She'd taken about ten steps when she realized that the others weren't following her. She stopped, sighed, and whirled back around to face the group of young adults huddling together like kindergarteners on their first day of school. "Relax," she said gently, smiling. "It's not going to hurt you. Step out onto the sand." They all took a step. "One more step." They took another. "One more step." They took a third. "Good. Now, if you can just remember to put one foot in front of the other, you'll be down at the shore in no time!"

"That's not funny," Cassie told her.

"I thought it was."

Sure enough, they eventually made their timid way down to the shore, where the sun was brightest and the people were loudest. Tim put a hand up to his ear, widening his eyes in that way that meant it was a little too much noise for him, but thankfully, pretty much everybody ignored it. No need for an excuse to leave the second they got there. They picked a spot that would fit all eight of their towels with sufficient space between and laid their stuff down, wondering what they were supposed to do now. Kiran pulled out her volleyball. "Okay, who wants to play?" she squealed excitedly.

The guys grimaced. "Do we _have_ to?" Tim asked.

Kiran's face fell. "No, there are other things to do. You could just lay here and relax for a while…you know, get some sun. You need it."

Tim glowered at her as Cassie spoke up, "I'll play with you, Kiran."

"I'll be on someone's team," Rose announced. Then she grabbed Raven's hand. "And Raven will play, too, because we have to make the teams even."

Cassie, Rose, and Raven hurried off to find a good place for beach volleyball, while Kiran dug in her tote. She pulled out her tube of sunscreen and one of her mystery novels, flinging the sunscreen at Bart and the novel at Tim. "Don't forget to put that stuff on," she reminded them. "And I thought the detective might like a mystery to exercise his skills. Have fun, relax, don't wreck anything, don't bother the tourists, and if you want to join the game, feel free to come down at any time." And with that, she walked off, determined to let the boys figure it out without her help.

Well, the sunscreen didn't go over too well, or so they were pretty sure. Conner squeezed the bottle hard enough for half of the white goop to dollop itself out onto his skin, so he scooped it up into his hand and let the others share it. Bart took too much, Tim didn't take enough, Conner was left with a mound of sunscreen the size of his middle finger, and Gar didn't take any. Afterward, they all spread out their towels and laid back, letting the warmth of the sun soak into their skin and make their tense, tight muscles unwind.

Tim had no more than picked up the book and read the first page than he stated, "The mistress did it." He then proceeded to turn to the last chapter, read a little bit, and declare, "Yep, I was right." He tossed it aside carelessly, folding his hands behind his head.

"Thanks so much for ruining the hook of a great Agatha Christie novel," Bart called over.

"Who said it's Agatha Christie?" Gar interjected. "Maybe it's Mary Higgins Clark. I've heard her stuff's good."

Conner was about to ask Tim some meaningless question about the book when he noticed that his best friend was angling his arms so that his hands supported the back of his neck and head. He propped himself up on his elbows, tracking Tim's gaze to the girls' volleyball game. "Dude," he groaned. "Will you stop that? It's so creepy."

"What?" Tim demanded, craning his neck a little more.

"Stop going after all the girls. I remember when we were, like, thirteen, just starting out, and the prospect of girls in general scared you so bad you about peed your pants. Now, it's like you're after every hot girl you see."

"Hey, I can't help the fact that I discovered where my testosterone resides."

"That's great!" Gar added energetically. "Now you won't be such a pansy when it comes to chicks!"

But Bart was a little more skeptical. He sat up to look at Tim, squinting against the sunlight. "Aren't you supposed to be, like, protecting your virgin eyes or whatever?" he asked. "Besides, I thought you already _had_ a girlfriend."

Tim leaned a little to the left, still watching the girls. "Oh, Bartholomew, how much thou still have left to learn about thy friend. The rest of me might be a virgin, but my eyes most certainly are not. And I broke up with Tam a week or two ago, after the fiasco that was the Assassination Tournament. Let's just say that she…was not happy with what I did to protect her." A smile broke out on his face. "I see why you used to date Cassie, Conner. I never noticed how hot she is until just now."

Conner furrowed his eyebrows. "Dude, there's no way my ex-girlfriend would ever date my best friend. That's way too weird."

"She dated me last year."

"Yeah, for a whole, like, two days while I was too busy being _dead_. That doesn't count."

"It does in my book."

"And people say _I'm_ only out for the women," Gar remarked.

Tim looked offended. "Hey, I'm acting out the rich young playboy image. Figure I might as well get started before I'm twenty-five and too knee-deep in Wayne Enterprises to have any fun anymore." He lay back again, closing his eyes and shifting a bit to get comfortable. The others, noting Tim's silent dismissal, followed suit, figuring the conversation to be pretty much over.

But none of them got much of a chance to relax before Rose jogged up and chucked the volleyball into Conner's chest. "Get up, guys," she said in a tone that was all but bored. "You're joining the game to even out the teams."

Conner sat up, gingerly handling the ball as if it might explode. "But the teams _are_ even," he pointed out. "The Titans have four girls; that's two per team."

Rose turned on her heel, shrugged, and began to walk away. "If you guys don't want an excuse to bump elbows with your swimsuit-clad girlfriends and would much rather deny your testosterone, suit yourselves."

Bart was already up and trotting after her, stretching out an arm across her shoulders as he began to babble to her. Gar strode over to claim his place on Raven's team. Conner and Tim got up and started on their way, Conner with the ball tucked under his arm and Tim commenting, "See, she agrees that Cassie's my girlfriend."

Conner decided that no answer was the best answer.

The teams were divided pretty much equally. They made sure Conner and Cassie were on opposite teams, but Tim somehow ended up with Rose, Conner, and Bart, so he was not happy. In fact, he was doing everything he could to look like he was just an innocent spectator who was a little too close to the game when Cassie served the ball. He was raising his hand to block the sun so he could see a rather impressive sandcastle down the way when Kiran shrieked, "Tim, watch out!"

He turned to find his vision filled with white, his head snapped back, and his butt impacted firmly with the sand.

If you asked him, it was pretty impossible to firmly impact with sand, but Tim was fairly certain that he had whiplash, so the world was spinning a little too fast for him to really be able to think. Somebody was pulling him to his feet and clapping him on the back, and people were talking all around him, but it didn't make much sense. Finally, he was able to discern Gar's voice in the multitude of run-together sounds joking, "It's just something about your face. Volleyballs are magnetized to it."

Tim gave a shake of the head, his blurry vision cleared, and he could see Cassie standing in front of him, a hand on her heart and a worried expression on her face. She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Tim?" she asked. "I didn't mean to hit you. I'm sorry."

He blinked once and nodded, slowly, to avoid getting dizzy. "Um…I think so," he mumbled. "Can I ref or something?"

Rose smacked him soundly on the back of the head. "No," she said firmly. "You're our fourth member. If you go, somebody else goes, too, and then there'll be complaining. And you all know how I feel about complaining."

In the end, Tim decided to play, anyway, and the next four hours were the best of the Titans' respective lives. When sundown and, ultimately, their return to Titans Tower, came, however, they were all pretty miserable. Tim passed out at the wheel on the way back, which meant that Cassie had to drive, and Gar's normally green skin had already turned a brownish-red with his near-full-body sunburns. Bart had to take three showers to get his sunscreen off, Conner got stuck helping Tim up to his room, and Rose decided that she looked too hot in her bikini to take it off…even in bed. Kiran, listening to the general commotion of the tower, rubbed her temples and sighed. So beach days were officially a bona fide dumbass idea, it seemed.


	23. Dresses

Cassie's birthday was not a happy experience for the Titans. She arrived at the tower mad as hell and just kept getting worse as the day went on, throwing things around, slamming doors so hard she popped them off their hinges, and stomping around with enough force to vibrate the walls. Attempts were made at calming her down and wishing her well…at first. But, after the fifth blowup with no sign of them stopping, the others quietly crept into various hiding places. The guys all found themselves congregating in Tim's bedroom, huddled on the floor, the bed, and beside the bookcase.

A collective flinch rippled through the room when another loud thud was heard. Tim drew his knees up to his chest and settled farther into his mattress. "Does…anybody know what's wrong with her?" he asked tentatively.

Gar shook his head. "It's not my job to babysit the cranky demigoddess," he stated.

Bart propped himself up on his elbows, looking up at Conner, who sat beside Tim on the bed. "You have any idea, Conner?"

Conner spread his heads in a gesture of innocence. "Hey, she hasn't been my girlfriend for months now," he defended himself. "We've talked a couple of times, but we never really got back together. I know nothing, I promise you."

There was another tower-shaking crash. Tim gave a toss of his head to clear his bangs from his eyes. "Well, somebody needs to go figure out what's wrong. You know—somebody to be a mediator."

The others looked at each other, and then Conner and Gar hauled Tim up off the bed. "Congratulations, Tim," Gar said brightly.

"No, no, no, guys; wait—"

But it was too late. Tim had already been expelled from the room, into the hallway, and the door was slammed shut and locked behind him. He began to grumble curses under his breath and bent over to pick the lock, but a flash of blonde hair beyond his vision caught his eye. Mentally condemning his stupidity, he trotted after his grumpy not-girlfriend.

"H-hey, Cassie," he squeaked, promptly clearing his throat to return his voice to its normal pitch. "Hey, Cassie, your day going any better now?"

"Shut up, Tim!" she snapped. "I don't need your words of wisdom."

"I…wasn't gonna offer any…"

"Well, I still don't need them!"

Tim blinked a little, stunned, before jogging back up to Cassie's side. "Um, well, do you at least want to tell me what's wrong?"

"No."

"It'll make you feel better…"

"No."

"It'll be good for your soul…"

"It wasn't good for yours."

Tim jumped in front of her, blocking her way to her bedroom door. "Damn it, woman, I'm _trying_ to be a mediator here!"

Her expression turned incredulous with a dash of indignation. "Did you say a mediator?"

"Good boyfriend," he corrected himself quickly. "I'm trying to be a good boyfriend."

Cassie sighed and ran a hand through her blonde locks, pushing her bangs back from her face in the process. She seemed to melt under Tim's sincere gaze, the stress and frustration giving way to…well, more stress and frustration. She mumbled something under her breath that even Tim couldn't hear. When he bent a little closer and asked her to repeat what she said, she cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed, _"My mother kicked me out!"_

Tim peeled himself off the wall with something like shocked empathy rippling through his veins. "Oh, Cassie," he murmured. "I'm…I'm so sorry. I know how that feels. Trust me."

"Yeah, I know." Cassie's voice was much quieter now, as she hugged her arms close to her body. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go worry about where I'm gonna live and how I'm gonna get a job."

Tim watched her go, unsure of what else to do. He never was good at comforting people…and especially not his girlfriends. He knew there was something he was supposed to work on this weekend.

The other girls joined the meeting in his bedroom a few minutes later, listening to him explaining the situation. Kiran jumped in immediately after he finished speaking. "We have to do something to help her feel better," she announced.

"I know," Tim assured her, flopping down on his bed. "I just don't know what."

Everything was silent until Conner exclaimed, "I know! We can get her a new dress! Cassie _loves_ dresses!"

Tim nodded, chewing thoughtfully on his thumbnail. "I _do_ have some money here…"

Bart let out a nervous giggle, rubbing the back of his neck. Rose was suddenly extremely preoccupied with appearing as emotionless as possible. Tim glared at her and held out a hand. "Give it back."

She didn't miss a beat. "Give what back?"

"The whole five hundred dollars you stole out of my wallet, that's what."

Rose shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tim scowled at her. "You spent it all on cigarettes, didn't you?"

"You'll never know."

"Then I guess that drunken birthday video goes up on YouTube tonight."

There was silence, and then Rose fished in her pockets to hand over a wad of cash to the now-triumphant vigilante. "Damn detectives."

In the end, it was unanimously decided upon that Tim and Conner would buy Cassie's dress for her. Of course, neither of them had much of a say in it, but if it fixed the problem of the miniature, demigoddess-empowered earthquakes that wracked Titans Tower, it was worth a little pain. They wandered around town for quite some time, trying to figure out exactly where they should buy the dress from and how to make it clear that they were buying for a friend. Eventually, they stopped at a nice little shop someplace in the center of town that had a few gorgeously tailored works of art in the display window.

Tim led Conner inside, making a beeline for a rack full of red sundresses. He pulled one off, hanger and all, held it up where Conner could see, spun around to face his friend, and stated, quite decisively, "I like it."

Conner stroked his chin thoughtfully, taking in the dress. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's a really nice color." He reached out to delicately rub the fabric with a thumb and forefinger. "And the texture of the cloth is really nice, too…"

The sound of a throat clearing brought both boys' attention up to the front desk, where an elderly clerk stood, staring at them with widened eyes. Tim realized, in that moment, that he was holding the dress up as if to see how well it would fit on his form. And Conner was also commenting on the dress. "No, no, no," Tim assured the old woman. "It's not what it looks like."

"No," Conner cut in. "We're totally not—"

"You gentlemen," the clerk interrupted him, "don't have to say anything more." She rounded the corner of the desk to approach them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Now, I know that today's society isn't very accepting of young men such as yourselves that aren't afraid to love who they wish, but I just want you to understand that as long as I work in this store, we will not discriminate against anyone of any particular orientation."

"We're not _dating_!" Conner all but yelled. "We're not even _gay_! And even if we were, why would I want to date _him_?"

"Hey!" Tim protested.

"Now, now, boys," the clerk said. "It's perfectly okay to be in denial. My brother was in denial for forty years, but he finally found the right person for him. Now, granted he was in denial of being straight, but it's the same concept, you see?"

"No," Tim said emphatically. "And we are _not_ gay."

But the clerk was already walking away toward a locked door behind the counter. "I'll be in the back room if you two lovebirds need anything."

"_We're not gay!"_


	24. Nightmares

**I'm so sorry. I had to do another serious chapter. This one is inspired by Breaking Benjamin's amazing song, "You". Look it up on YouTube. It's really beautiful.**

The Titans had been dead a long time. It was common knowledge by now. So, Raven wasn't really sure why she was just now grieving for them.

Come to think of it, she wasn't really sure how she'd gotten there in the first place. The tower held no more occupants, was devoid of all life except the occasional well-protected mourner coming to place flowers at the makeshift memorial that would die in a week or two anyway, given the amounts of radiation found there. Years had passed since those infamous days, but…why wait until now?

_Superboy pushes the enormous meteor out of Earth's orbit, on and on and on until the last traces of him blink from sight. They all watch and wait for his return, the triumphant hero, the savior of the planet. But he never comes back. And the Titans cry, all of them, because now they've lost their friend a second time._

_The Flash runs frantically against the flow of the Speed Force, forcing it to conform to his will. If he can just get it to turn the clock back a little…if he can just go back to get Conner…but the immense task is akin to stuffing the entirety of the sun into a mason jar. He doesn't feel much when it rips him apart, limb by limb._

_Aegis goes after Vandal Savage alone. If it weren't for him, she would still have her friends, and her lover wouldn't be so damn difficult to reach. She is a daughter of Zeus, yes, but Savage is an immortal, a master of many martial arts superior to her own skill. He calls her a foolish child, as he's ripping her throat out._

_Red Robin takes matters into his own hands when his family pushes him away again. He's distant, so very cold, because he can't go on without his friends—can't attempt it again, after that disaster when he was seventeen. This time, they refuse to take his bullshit, and they give him the space he so desperately wants. They act surprised when they find him lying cold and still on the bed, the white sheets drenched in his blood._

_Ravager decides that enough is enough. Her father was right; these so-called "heroes" are deliberately forgetting their own. She snatches the contract from under his nose when the Penguin offers two million up-front, in cash, for the first person to kill Nightwing and bring back a souvenir. She's so busy contemplating whether she'll take the head or the heart that she doesn't realize the counter-contract was a success until the bullet hits her brain._

_Solstice thinks that perhaps it was never meant to be. She can't believe how quickly the only real friends she ever knew are slipping away from her. The image refuses to leave her mind, the image of how terrible their deaths must have been. Everyone knows why she volunteers to go in after the rogue hero. She misses her old team so much, and she gets exactly what she wants when her adversary drives his sword through her heart._

_Animal Man is the only one to attempt the Teen Titans again. For the legacy, he says, because their sacrifices can't be forgotten. It was the reason that team came about, not the reason that it ended. Some say he's right; others say he's crazed with grief and guilt. He goes out in a literal blaze of glory, alongside the rest of his misfit band, when the nuking of San Francisco is arranged._

Raven couldn't remember how she'd gotten there, couldn't seem to place why she'd chosen the site. Years had passed, and the radioactivity still hadn't died down much. But still she had come, with no protection, and why? Was it a death wish? After all, that had been her family for so many years. Now that she was the only one left, her life had become so dreadfully lonely that it was almost—no, _was_ unbearable. It only made sense that she would follow her friends, her lover, into the abyss.

But that wasn't why she came.

The skies above her darkened, letting loose a torrent of rain—no, blood—that fell in thick, heavy red droplets onto her face and cloak, weighing her down. Her mind was elsewhere, though. If she could just turn back time like Bart had tried to do…if she could just reverse all of this…but that was impossible, and revenge was so much sweeter, anyway.

The heroes that let this happen, that stood by and watched without raising a single hand or voice in protest, didn't deserve her mercy. She should've gone after them.

Oh, but the pain…so much pain…and it was drowning her. Maybe she ought to just remove herself from the situation, like they were always telling her to. There was always some way to do it.

But the Titans needed to go on, to be remembered and honored. If the team couldn't live on, what sort of message would that send to the villains that had killed them?

The rain was suffocating, and as the ground beneath her feet grew wetter and muddier, she began to sink. She thrashed and screamed and cried out for help, but nobody came. And meanwhile, she just…sank. Down and down until, finally, when she was starting to choke on the disgusting mixture of blood and dirt and death—

"Wake up, Raven!"

It was Gar, Gar was there, and he was shaking her and screaming and crying. But…Gar was…he was dead…wasn't he?

"Wake up!"

She opened her eyes.

There was no ruined city around her, no bloody rain or red-brown mud sucking her under. There was only her bedroom, and her sheets tangled around her legs, and Gar's hands on her shoulders, warm and comforting. She had somehow attracted the whole team into her room, because they were all standing around her bed, pajama-clad, gazing at her with concern beneath heavy eyelids and tousled mops of hair. Her shoulders began to shake, and hot tears began to run down her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, I…I just…"

Gar pulled her into his embrace, shushing her. "It's not your fault," he replied gently. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here, we're here, and you're gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be just fine."

She let him hold her while she cried, and the other Titans stayed with them, offering support through their sympathetic eyes, their respectful silence, and even just their presence alone.


End file.
